not me clowning over mr julien sorel le-rouge-et-le-noir and his sensitive and angry bitch behavior.... not me losing it over ms. mathilde de la mole le-rouge-et-le-noir and her rich girl goth stylings
Summary: washed up actor and a time-warping talk show host who likes disco walk into a bar
Aka: I was getting tired of writing one setting and the same people for forever and wrote this drabble as a break
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If you were to ask the actor standing in front of you why he did what he did, there’s seldom doubt he’d be able to clearly tell you.
A grand finale.
A final show.
A shake of his fist at the cruel fate life handed him.
Just like him, all it became was an extravagant joke.
Actor growls, shoving away the echoing feeling of shadows with eyes burning into his back, grabbing and ripping him apart, pulling him back together vertebrae by vertebrae until he danced to a vengeful tune once more.
The entity, to put it lightly, has not made it easy to escape it’s grasp. A fool, he was, to think he could use its power to his own whim and not face the consequences.
Even so, with a new body and purpose he can see it lurking in the shadows.
Even now, as he trudged through a dimly lit street in the dead of winter he can hear it ringing in his ears.
After all, it takes time to escape from memories.
God he needs a drink…
Actor stops in his tracks and looks to his side. Blaring music vibrates in his ribs, shaking and stirring his insides.
It’s a bar.
A very neon, very bright bar.
A perfect place to sulk, He thinks to himself.
Tightening his grip around the pockets of his red velvet jacket, Actor takes a breath.
And walks in.
The music is even louder on the inside than from the outside. For some unknown reason, that fact surprises him.
All around the hall people can be seen dancing in a frenzied craze. Lights flashing in a showcase of every conceivable color available to the blind eye. Under the lights, a live band was playing some indistinguishable disco with a fervor and passion Actor wishes he still possessed. He scoffs and sharply inhales through his nose.
The air reeks with the familiar stench of alcohol and mania.
Actor squints his eyes and burrows his face deeper into the black scarf tied around his neck and shuffles his way to the leather bar stool. Slamming his hand on the wooden surface of the table to get the bartender's attention.
With a sigh, they dreadfully approach.
“What can I get for you, sir?”
Actor mumbled deeply, head miserably laying on polished oak. "Red wine. Any year, I don't care."
The bartender curtly nods and leaves to get the drink. Actor's in no hurry tonight, why should he care if it's taking forever?
"Here you go, sir. Red wine, 1926."
Ah, prohibition wine. Nothing quite like tasting secret rebellion acid slipping down your throat, whispering sweet illegality and chaos in the wake of conformity.
Actor downs the wine in one gulp and haphazardly slams the cup onto the table. Beside him, a man chuckles.
"You sure needed that one, huh friend?"
Turning to face the voice, Actor attempted to hide his widening eyes in reaction to the speaker’s appearance.
A man in a silky pink long-sleeve shirt tucked into… the ugliest shade of yellow Actor had ever seen paired with white shoes, stained and worn from long nights out dancing, no doubt.
The top of his head layed home to the biggest and most extravagant pink afro Actor had ever seen in his life.
And on his face… an eerily familiar, upturned, almost pink-like at the edges mustache.
What a strange-looking person, Actor thought.
“Yeah… hey, aren’t you one of the stage performers?” He questions offhandedly. Actor was sure he’d seen him perform when coming in.
“Oh, not for tonight. Maybe tomorrow’s yesterday though…”
Actor stares at the man, trying to piece together his offputting comment.
“You… what?”
The man grins at him, swishing in his hand a martini that definitely wasn’t there before.
“What did you say, friend?”
“Your-your comment on when you’re going to perform. What did you say?”
He gazes at Actor, brows furrowed in concentration before his eyes glaze over. He sits still on his creaking barstool, focusing on nothing and everything before jumping in his seat and grinning at Actor.
“Bah, who can remember things like that? I know I can’t. Anyways, I don’t think I caught your name, fellow. Or maybe I forgot that too, it’s entirely possible.”
Actor blinks with incredulity. His words caught in his throat, unable to pass.
“My name is… irrelevant.” He finally decides on saying.
“Irrelevant, hm? Sounds french! Have you ever been there? I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year.”
Actor raises his hand to get the bartender’s attention and signals another round. It’s going to be a long night.
“Firstly, it’s winter. Second of all I didn’t even get your name, how am I supposed to talk to you without it.”
The man sits gasps for air, dramatically arching his back in shock before responding with a curt bow in his chair.
“Oh my apologies, Irrelevant, it must have slipped my mind! Name’s Wilford Warfstache!”
“Wilford Warfstache?” Actor echoes.
“That’s what I said!”
Actor snorts, picking up his second glass of wine, inspecting it as if passing final judgement.
“Well, Mr. Warfstache, what exactly do you want with me? Out of all the seats in the bar why’d you sit next to this one, huh?”
Wilford smiles and pats him heartily on the back. “My friend, you looked so lonely sitting at the bar with nobody else around you! I-I figured you could use some good company!”
Actor rolls his eyes. “How thoughtful…”
Wilford nods brightly, looking the Actor up and down with a slight hitch in his breath.
“Say… do I know you from somewhere?”
Actor winces, tirelessly holding on to a shred of hope that tells him he hasn’t faded into obscurity.
“I’m an actor. There’s a good chance you’ve seen me on the silver screen.”
With this revelation, Wilford’s face lights up in wonder.
“An actor! That’s fantastic! What movies have you done, my friend? Was there love? Was there murder? Was there treacherous betrayal at the hands of an ally?” He questions, voice getting louder and louder with each passing query.
“You could say that… It’s been a while since I landed a good role, however.”
“Well, it doesn’t have to stay like that! I’m sure you can find something big to be in soon!” Wilford cheers passionately.
“Yeah right… the last time I did some big movie was… god I don’t even know how long it’s been since then.”
Wilford pats Actor pitifully on the back, softening his voice to the best of his ability.
“Well, whatever role you played I’m sure it was wonderful!”
Actor took a sip of his wine. “I played a detective.”
“A detective! That’s a wonderful role to act! Why, I happen to have a friend who’s a detective and he’s one of the best people you’ll ever meet, trust you me.”
Actor nods solemnly, eyes and throat caught in a crossfire of guilt and rage. “So did I. Met him on set as a professional consultant and stayed friends afterwards. At least until...” he trails off.
“Until what?” Wilford asks.
“I… did something. Something bad that I can’t take back. I got stuck with a shitty hand, tried to use it and it backfired and no matter what I try to do I can’t get new cards. It’s not fair!” Actor growls.
Wilford hums, circling the edges of the martini glass with the paper umbrella. “Such is life, my friend. You can’t always make sense of it’s chaos, hell knows I don’t.”
Rolling his eyes, Actor spits with venom. “Oh, please. What bad thing could you have possibly done?”
“Everyone has some blood on their hands, my friend. There’s no need to dig for specifics.”
“And yet, here we are. Hell, the only good outcome from anything I did slipped out of my fingers and forever from my grasp.”
Wilford held out a finger, motioning for Actor to shut it.
“Never say never, my good man! If I know anything, it’s that things always come back to you. If they don’t you keep looking for them!”
“How inspirational.” Actor deadpans.
“It’s true! I say you should keep looking for the positive, even if it’s hard!”
"I don't know…"
Wilford tuts sotfly. "Come on now, don't you trust ol' Warfy?"
"Not really, no."
He shockingly gasps, bringing a shaking hand to his chest and spilling his martini on the floor. "W-well whyever not? I give pretty good advice, why not trust me?"
"I met you tonight."
"But it feels so much longer than that, doesn't it?" Wilford sighs, leaning his head on Actor's sunken shoulders.
He shakes the afro-d man off and takes a swing of his wine.
"Whatever you say, Will."
The two sit in silence, taking in the music echoing in the hall with comfort.
"You know, I did get an offer for this television series a while ago."
"Did you, now?"
"It was for some kind of choose-your-own-adventure thing. It seemed silly at the time and I didn't say anything yet but maybe I'll give it a shot." He mumbles.
"Wonderful idea, my friend! That seems marvelous to work on."
Actor sluggishly smiles. "You think?"
Nodding brightly, Wilford responds. "I do! And if it's any consolation, my friend," he pauses and shuffles through his afro, pulling out a small, pink flower. "I think you'd make a wonderful hero."
Actor lightly picks the flower from his hand, petting the rosy petal. It's soft and delicate, smooth under his touch.
"Whatever you choose to do, you'll be great at. I'm sure of it."
He gazes at his newfound friend, eyes shining with reinvigorated light for the first time in years.
"Thank you, Will."
"Anytime, good man! Anytime."
Actor stands up and brushes his jacket, smiling at Will. "I think it's time I left. I've got a friend to pay a visit to."
"Good luck! And remember you always have a friend here!" Wilford raises his full martini glass high into the air.
"You got it, Will."
And with that, Actor left. Perhaps it's time to resume his search for a certain Mayor.
Time is Irrelevant (1/?): The Mystery of Psychology
Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Female!Reader
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.7k
Part Summary: Y/N is an undergraduate student double majoring in history and English. While she’s cramming away at her research paper she’s approached by a rather peculiar man.
Masterlist
“History, like love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of imaginary brightness.”
- James Fenimore Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans
I’ve never imagined myself as one of the greats. They’ve lived before my time and their legacies will outlive me long after I’m gone. The greatest task I can accomplish is do them justice by telling their stories. I must immerse myself in their lives and hope to influence others with their work. I’m merely the surface that the puzzle of history rests upon. Over time, I’ve collected facts from as many historical periods as possible and have memorized them.
I’ve always found history easy to retain. I believe it to be a blessing. Once I’ve heard, read, or watched any kind of information about history I’ll remember it for the rest of my life. My gift made the subject easy for me in school. I also excelled in English. Words resonate with people for generations, they’re needed to retell history. A simple sentence or everyday speech may end up in every history book across the country. Words are equally as influential to our history as our actions. Hence why I’m a history and English double-major. With history comes life lessons, valuable lessons that can only be learned from past experiences. English, words, can impact an entire generation or many, thus influencing history. By telling the stories of the past, I hope to better the future.
As I review the archives on the Crusades in front of me, my fingers tap against the table to the beat of the music coming from my earbuds in the otherwise silent archives. Many of my friends have never understood how I’m able to read and listen to music at the same time. What can I say? I’m talented. Disregard the fact that I’ve read this book fifty times over so I could practically recite it from memory. I’m kinda mixing wars here by listening to Hamilton while reading about the French and Indian War. Oh well, there are no rules against the action.
Suddenly, there is a tap on my shoulder. I assume someone must be able to hear my music and is asking for me to turn it down. I close my book as I remove one of my earbuds and peer over my shoulder. I lift my eyes and meet the gaze of a rather handsome individual.
“I’m sorry is it too loud?” I apologize.
“Not at all,” he assures me with a gentle smile and I take note of his accent. “I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of information on the French Revolution?”
The gentleman is lucky, an average person wouldn’t know the archives by heart. I’ve spent nearly every day up here since the early days of freshman year.
“You’re on the right floor so good job.” I joke and point my finger towards the proper section in the middle of the room near me. “Most of the books on the French Revolution that I’ve been able to find are over there but there are more throughout the library upstairs. Nonetheless, those should be a good start.”
He grins, pausing for a moment as he stares me in the eye. “Thank you.” His focus travels to my book sitting on the table. “The Last of The Mohicans, good choice.”
He leaves, as quickly as he appeared, towards the section I suggested. That man is something else entirely. He’s likely a professor considering he’s down here and his considerably formal attire. Only a professor would wear a bow tie. Then again, he appears awfully young. A TA perhaps? That wouldn’t explain his accent though. He could be a visiting professor. Plus, oddly enough, he knows of my book, not many people I know do.
I pop my earbud back in and dive back into reading. The whole interaction was short but interesting nonetheless. I’m not sure what it was about him but he was different than most. It could be that he had this awkward charm and I’m not used to people being so polite. For a young man, he seemed old fashioned. His wording was more articulate, could be because he’s British. Normally a guy would say ‘uh hey so like, could you…. um… show me where the books are for the French Revolution or whatever it’s called? If they have an audiobook or DVD that’s cool too!’
Okay, that’s it, I can’t focus after that guy talked to me. I’ve read the same sentence five times over. It’s best just head home, it’s getting late anyway.
The sun is setting as I make my way back to the apartment. I take the more scenic route by the original brick buildings from the colonial era. Mainly because I like the brick path, especially now that it’s fall and the leaves coat the ground. I’m not surprised to see some boys playing football on the lawn in the center of campus. My first thought is how American they appear, with the crisp leaves scattering the ground, everyone in their duck boots, and playing football. I feel as if I’m in a Lands End catalog.
On the way home, I stop by the student union to fetch a late dinner to take home. I shuffle through the music on my phone, trying to find the perfect playlist for the walk back. I approach the door to the building and the person ahead of me holds it for me as I stare down at my phone.
“Thank you” I mumble absentmindedly.
“Oh well hello again!”
I look up and believe it or not it’s the same man from before. I take notice of his exquisite eyes, their long lashes, and his multicolored uniqueness. I’ve never seen anything like them before. They’re like marbles. A warm chestnut shade toward the cornea but then fades into a ring of emerald that transitions into a deep ocean blue. He has every possibility in one.
“Oh hey!” I respond politely, “did you find the book you were looking for?”
He shows me the hardcover book in his hand. “Yeah, thank you so much for your help earlier!” He holds out his hand for me to shake, “it’s nice to meet you...”
“Y/N,” I answer, accepting his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too!”
I’m not the kind for such formal introductions. In this day and age, there are rarely introductions just frequent run-ins until everyone becomes acquainted.
The gentleman stares at me for a second, visibly deep in thought. He continues to hold my hand, but I’m too awkward to remove it. Then, snaps himself out of it, parting from my hand. “Beautiful name,” he compliments, charmingly.
Normally, I would imagine girls swoon over a compliment from a man with his foreign accent. American girls love a pretty English accent. Yet, his attention makes me feel on display. I’ve never been fond of physical compliments. I never know how to respond to them.
“Are you meeting someone?” I ask.
He looks confused but realizes I’m referring to the building. “Oh! No, no I’m here to get something to eat.”
This was nice, but now I’m over being polite because I’m starving. Plus, I’ve been in the archives practically all day working on my research paper for Medieval History for I’m beyond tired.
“Oh okay…” I stumble over my words, “well, it was nice to you!” I nod, preparing to walk away.
“Would you like to join me?” He asks abruptly before I’m able to escape.
It’s ironic, I’m a mess and he’s wanting my company. The image of me schlepping around this ten-pound backpack wasn’t off-putting to him, really?
“Awesome!” He declares, not giving me the chance to decline his offer before he ushers me inside. “I’ll meet you over there after you get your food!” He adds, pointing over to a specific table.
I was really looking forward to eating in my bed at home, but I can’t decline anyone and risk hurting their feelings. Sticking to my word, I head over to where he instructed after I grab my usual sushi order. Sure enough, he’s already seated at the table. I notice the fact we’re in the far back corner separated from the workers or the other few eaters this time of night. I place my bag next to me on the floor as I get situated.
“You like sushi?” He inquires.
I sway my head from side to side, “Americanized sushi. The traditional raw fish I’ve never tried.”
He chuckles lightly, “one day you’ll have to try it. It’s surprisingly not as bad as one might assume.”He speaks so smoothly. Does it come naturally or does he have to work at it?
“One day,” I sigh with a smile. I would love to see the world and experience everything it has to offer. Yet, I’m a poor college student with responsibilities.
“What’s your major?” He asks, creating casual conversation.
“I’m a double major, English, and history,” I nod.
He raises his eyebrows, appearing amazed. “Impressive!”
“What about you? What do you do?” I’m purposefully vague enough with my questions because I still don’t know whether he’s a student or a professor. He could pass as a graduate student and that’s what has me stumped.
“Oh uh...” he stammers, rubbing his hands together in his lap. “I’m a doctor.”
He’s a professor then. I’m having a social dinner with a professor... is this allowed? “Oh okay,” I try to remain unfazed. “What is it that you teach?”
I’m assuming he must teach history considering the search for the French Revolution book. Then again, I don’t know of any English professors in the department. The topic isn’t really one for some light reading. He could be required to take a history course, though I doubt it.
“Psychology,” he rushes out an answer.
Do I ask or is that too bold? Then again, I’ve never really cared about superficial social standards.
I lean forward in my chair, resting my arms on the table as curiosity appears on my face. “If you don’t mind me asking, why were you looking for books on the French Revolution earlier?”
He hesitates as if he’s evaluating my question. His features go blank then shift to sternness. Did I say something wrong? Was I not being polite when I asked that?
“I was picking it up for a friend,” he answers plainly, questionably.
I don’t believe him, not for a second. I’m no expert in psychology but his eyes glanced to his right while his voice went up a little at the end of his sentence. He’s lying. My heart quickens and I do everything in my power to remain calm. I’m going to play along and act oblivious. Perhaps, he has a good reason for lying.
“I was just wondering because you said you were in Psychology,” I say light-heartedly, waving my hand to dismiss the matter.
He sighs deeply, placing his napkin on the table. “They said you’d be hard to fool.” His eyes meet mine with a smirk as he leans back in his chair. “You don’t miss a thing do you?” He snickers.
His words are so ominous they make my breathing hitch as I drop my chopsticks.
“What?” I calmly question, reaching for my back slowly.
In a swift movement, he grabs my hand on the table and points a metal shiny thing at my face. I attempt to yank myself free, but he just squeezes tighter. I look into the light radiating from the buzzing object. Then, suddenly, my sight goes dark. This can’t be good.
Summary: After the death of her mother more than music is dropped from Julie’s life. Julie breaks up with her best friend turned then girlfriend Ramona. When Ramona gets closure it causes Julie remembers that Ramona was more than a girlfriend. She was her best friend too.
Warning: Swearing, talk of death, break-up, angst (ain’t new here), Julie and Ramona are ex-girlfriends and no happy ending (oops)
Characters: ex!Julie Molina x ex!Ramona Monet (just worked better with an OC even when it will get less traction, sorry)
Words: 2.9k
A/N: So in my Charlie Gillespie imagine A Walk Down The Aisle the reader played a character Ramona Monet on the show. @leave-reality-behind wanted a fic off the tiny scene I wrote. So here you go.
Please ask to be tagged in my inbox because I can’t promise you will through commenting on the fics.
Masterlist
Ramona Monet’s deep burgundy lips manoeuvred into an ‘o’ as she released a deep breath of air sending her fringe flying. The last place she wanted to be was the spirit rally, but her Pops had banned for from the hidden gem in the older parts of LA. Ramona’s love of old movies stemmed from the many times her father had dropped her off at the movie theatre on his way to work. Being banned and her best friend performing at the rally is the only reason she would show her face.
Ramona had chosen a red tartan shirt with her fishnets that would more than likely land her in Principle Lessa’s office. As usual, she would fight ‘it broke dress code’ earing a little less respect from the adult but admiration for the quick retorts. Ramona made her way to the gym as the first beat of Carrie’s song played, her black ankle boots finding the way to the bleachers.
“Hey, Monet,” Nick spoke, leaning forward from his concealed position in the nest of jocks. The kind blonde had always been lovely to his girlfriend’s best friend.
“Nick.” Ramona nodded looking back as Carrie burst into the fast pace choreography that went with the pop song.
Dirty Candi’s music was not what Ramona listened to, but she couldn’t fault that it was a catchy song that would be in everyone’s head for days. From a distance, Carrie’s brown eyes finding Ramona wearing her self-made merch.
Ramona’s shirt sported the letters of Dirty Candi in the iconic colours Carrie had stressed over in the beginning. The black shirt was bleached in a tie-dye fashion, but it made Carrie’s heart flutter at the supportive friend she had.
“Whoo!” Ramona called over the loud background noise as Carrie gracefully dropped to perform the floor choreo. The words referencing to the band Queen made the teen girl knowing it was Carrie’s way of acknowledging the car karaoke.
Ramona’s attention was brought to the side where two girls were watching the performance. Flynn and Julie had been in the back of Ramona’s mind since the accident happened; Ramona’s heart dropped at the girl. Julie and Ramona had a good history tainted by tragic loss and teenage angst.
Ramona and Julie had been childhood best friends being a few houses from each other and that history was bittersweet. The two girls had nervously shared their first kisses in the now dilapidated treehouse in the Monet’s backyard. A relationship bloomed like a flower in the morning sun before the sun was concealed behind a storm cloud. Julie’s mom died, and Julie asked for a break.
Now everyone knows that a break is really a breakup and the naïve girlfriends had believed that. Then as Julie struggled with music, she struck out to the closest person, her girlfriend and Ramona found herself dumped. The dumping shattered Ramona’s heart, and the friend group divided. Flynn chose Julie and Carrie, disgusted by the cruel words, chose Ramona in a true Carrie fashion; Carrie and Ramona had initially only interacted together for their mutual friend/girlfriend. Then Ramona’s heart was obliterated when days later, she caught Julie staring at Nick with the same look Ramona used to get.
Ramona’s head turned to disregard the girl that had run out of music class the previous day during her performance. Rumours circulated by the end of the day that Julie Molina had been officially kicked out of the program; Ramona was both sad and relieved. Julie’s own head turned to catch the profile of her ex-girlfriend.
“Go Bobcats!” Carrie Wilson chimed strutting off to the girls change room for the dramatic exit. Needing a break from Julie, the Monet girl followed Dirty Candi into the change room.
“Nailed it,” Ramona spoke, revealing white teeth behind her dark lipstick gaining the pink-haired girl’s attention. Carrie’s face beamed at the compliment.
Ramona and Carrie Wilson couldn’t be farther in comparison with their different tastes and appearance. Carrie was all pink and glittery while Ramona was grunge and angst. Ramona was the one to push Carrie into making a YouTube channel, even promoting the group to Ramona’s followers without prompting.
“Oh! Thank you!” Carrie tugged her best friend into her arms, choking her taller friend with the tight embrace.
“So, I overheard Julie and Flynn when I walked by the music room. Julie’s going to perform for Mrs Harrison.” Ramona warned her best friend concerned as Carrie’s complexation changed to make the gaudy pink wig, “OH!”
Carrie’s French manicure gouged Ramona’s bare arm as she was tugged after the teenager back into the gym. A gasp fell from both their lips as Kayla, the purple dancer for Dirty Candi appeared. The three students rushed the stage where three guys popped out of nowhere on the stage.
“What the hell?” Ramona demanded watching her ex-girlfriend break out of her music shell, “Wow.”
“What do you mean ‘wow’ Ro?” Carrie asked in exasperation as her best friend stared at the stage, enjoying the music being played. Carrie scoffed only to soften when she saw the expression on Ramona, “Ro, she doesn’t deserve you. She never did.”
The sad smile appeared on Ramona’s face as her eyes met the bass player’s wink. Ramona flushed at the attention taken aback from the confidence. For a split-second, Ramona considered wiggling her way into the band to get back at Julie.
But while Ramona dressed like a confident badass, it was inside that she felt alone and hurt that Julie was doing so well without her. That sent rage flooding Carrie’s body so when Kayla fawned over the band Carrie glared at her. Kayla dropped her head at the glare.
“I’m gonna go,” Ramona spoke walking away from the stage and her ex who apparently, she still had feelings for. God help Ramona. Why was it when Ramona was shaking the feeling that Julie had to come back with a bang?
Ramona was striding out of the gym as the band disappeared, leaving the Molina girl alone to explain. Ramona leaned against the bathroom sink uncaring of the germs in carried staring at the teen in the mirror. The bubbling sadness faded down, remembering the changes that had happened, she was better without Julie.
Ramona walked back into the hall, catching the tail end of Julie’s conversation with absolutely no one near her. Ramona’s mossy green eyes rolled as she walked by the younger girl the bubble of anger reaching the surface. The sheepish smile on Julie’s face as a concerned custodian pushed his cart by.
“Oh, so does this girl.” Reggie spoke, watching as a rocker chick made a wide berth around his only remaining alive friend, “Ooh, she’s pretty.”
Julie watched the older girl walk by keeping her gaze ahead, “Hey Mona.”
Ramona cast a weird look at the other girl with a roll of her eyes, “Good on you for performing. Surprised someone other than Flynn survived Bitch Bomb 2019.”
Ramona turned around the corner of lockers leaving the Puerto Rican’s shoulders to deflate at the remind of Flynn running off. Sunset Curve watched the interaction with raised brows flicking between the very different girls.
“What was that about?” Alex wondered, viewing the sad expression of the gifted singer’s face. The utter sadness reminding him of when he broke up with his first boyfriend in ’93 and the lingering feeling.
“That was Ramona.” Julie sighed, picking at the braided bracelet on her wrist that had matched the one you used to wear.
Being fourteen without jobs and little allowance gifts had been mostly thrifted or homemade so for the six month anniversary they had braided bracelets. They had never come off their wrists until the breakup; Ramona had cut it off in a puddle of tears. Julie couldn’t bring herself to remove hers.
“When did Julie get smart enough to how about holograms?” Carrie scoffed as Ramona joined her at the lab table. The performance lingering like a bad taste of the girl’s tongue, “I worked weeks on that song! It was so hard getting Katy’s choreographer to help.”
“Carrie she-“
“She is so stupid! We’ve all lost someone, and we didn’t pull a Bitch Bomb 2019.” Carrie exclaimed referring to the first months of Julie’s grief-led wrath.
Carrie was both right and wrong in that sense because everyone grieved differently, Carrie would do retail shopping. Ramona’s way of dealing was locking herself in a room with a piano and lugging up water balloons to a roof; very Peyton Sawyer of her. Julie never reached out to apologize for her actions, but Ramona blocked her on everything.
“Car focus on the lab. You still have that bomb-ass song you’re working on.” Ramona sympathized with the teen. Carrie nodded her head, deciding to not focus on some girl with a fluke of a performance; Julie almost puked on the piano a few days ago, so her surprise band was probably a one-time thing.
“Don’t you have anything better than-“
“Carrie do you hear something?” Ramona pursed her lips, scanning the classroom with a feigned look of confusion. Carrie’s lips twitched at her best friend’s antics, “I swore I heard the voice of irrelevance.”
“Ooh and I swore I smelt gutter water perfume too.” Carrie flicked her hair over her shoulder, smirking at Flynn’s look of anger, “Mr. Taylor! Flynn threatened to burn me!”
Mr Taylor turned his attention from Kayla to Flynn’s expression of disbelief and the glare directed at the table ahead. Putting on a look of shock, Ramona appeared genuinely flabbergasted to the chemistry teacher.
“Flynn, that’s detention.” Mr Taylor spoke, turning back to Kayla.
“You bit-“Flynn was cut off by the bell ringing. Ramona and Carrie had already left the confident girl in the room. Flynn was fuming with both Julie’s lying and the unfair detention because of two popular vindictive girls.
One would expect Ramona Monet, as a member of the music program, to play guitar or drums. However, Ramona was a classically trained pianist with an affinity with stringed instruments as well. The Monet family had a footing in the music world with her mother taught in the same way, and her father a composer.
“Oh! Sorry.” Ramona’s intense focus on the music enchanting the room was pulled as the awkward form stood in the entrance.
“Seriously, Molina?” Ramona winced as her hands fell on the keys creating an ear gouging shriek. Her green eyes shining brighter with the bare face she had chosen with little motivation for makeup, “I’ve been using this room every day at the same time since freshman year. You should know that. Guess I really wasn’t even an afterthought.”
Ramona’s hand shoved soft top binder of her notes in her black bag covered in many pins and embroidered patches. Her bright pink nail polish surprising Julie but her eyes drowned in the form-fitting ripped black jeans with the wine red cable knit sweater. Cheeks flushing Julie stuttered.
“S-sorry. I just-“
“Whatever.” Ramona shoved passed her ex-girlfriend, “Why do you even wear that?”
Julie glanced at the meaningful bracelet that Ramona intensely stared at with the dark and light strings braided. Julie’s eyes fell to see Ramona no longer wore braided bracelets but a bracelet with a moon charm.
“It means a lot.”
“Just not the person.” Ramona darkly chuckled, “Kinda childish?”
Julie shuffled uncomfortably on her feet picking at her cuticle at the insult her antagonist ex threw at her. Three ghosts glared at the Monet girl pissed at the unfair treatment she was giving Julie.
“Hey! What the hell is your problem?” Luke snapped, stepping forward even as Alex made his input of it being unnecessary; they were dead. To Alex shock, the disgruntled girl shifted her gaze from Julie to the trio.
“My problem is none of your damn business Uncle Jesse.” Ramona spat earning raised brows at her reference.
“Did she die in the ’90s too?” Reggie stage whispered to his best friend staring the pretty brunette down. Ramona’s eyes rolled.
“Should have known. The only people Julie didn’t scare off would be the dead.” Ramona snarked twisting on her heel to storm off into the distance.
“I’m sorry!” Julie yelled, bringing the brunette to a dead stop with her foot not planted on the floor yet as the apology finally came.
All Ramona had ever wanted was Julie to apologize for her shitty decision to dump Ramona cruelly. Using bitter words on her personal life to drive the wedge but the final nail in the coffin was the slammed door in Ramona’s face.
“For what?” Ramona seethed, “For asking for space and screaming when I gave it? Dumping me and acting like I was the black plague? How about when you forgot about my audition? Burning the flowers, I sent for the funeral? Or making breaking off communication and Flynn completely ignoring me?”
“Oh damn.” Luke murmured, stepping back to the drummer and bassist floored at the confrontation. His heart dropped, finally understanding why Julie avoided all topics relating to Ramona.
“I was wrong.” Julie admitted, “I pushed you away. I got mad when you gave me what I wanted. I should have talked to you and not broke up with you that way I did.”
“She burnt funeral flowers. “Alex whispered to Reggie, surprised at the out of character action from his new friend.
“I chose you over my audition. I chose to offer support for my best friend, not just my then-girlfriend, on one of her worst days. I get to the funeral, and you refused to let me say goodbye to the woman that practically raised me as well.” Ramona calmed down, staring at the younger girl breaking apart in front of her.
It felt like a weight dropped off Ramona’s shoulders or the chains of heartbreak and confusion unlocked with the key of closure. The clouds disappeared, letting the sun help the flowers bloom after a year of rain. A genuine smile spread on the girls face as Julie’s dropped at the beautiful sight.
“I hope you well Birdie.” Julie’s heart fluttered at the pet name Ramona had coined for the teenager. It shortened from songbird to birdie, and Julie hadn’t heard in what felt like years, “I gotta go. It’s filming day.”
Julie went pushed into a memory.
Summer 2018
The camera was entirely set on Ramona in the treehouse that her Pop had built when she was five years old. Fourteen-year-old Ramona was relaxing as she fixed her white off-shoulder crop top to be straight once more. The cover of the song accompanied by her acoustic guitar was pretty to the years of the short girl at the entrance.
“I still think it’s cheesy to call it Music Monday.” Ramona told the camera with a shy smile after strumming the last note. Her eyes meeting the girl that tackled her in a hug, “Birdie!”
“Birdie?” Julie questioned leaning back from her kissing attacks on every inch of her dirty-blonde girlfriend.
“Songbird is a bit of a mouthful.” Ramona blushed hiding in Julie’s neck unaware of the camera still rolling. The blush deepened at the lingering kiss to Ramona’s hairline.
“I love it.” Julie softly spoke, leaning back to gaze into Ramona’s green eyes swimming in the soft feeling.
Julie Molina and Ramona Monet had been the classic best friends with hidden crushes that shattered one afternoon. Ramona was nervous about a date she had the next day, and she had never kissed anyone. Julie, awed by her best friend, admitted she’d never kissed anyone and so in a cliché, the girls decided to share their first kiss. Feelings were revealed, and the two started to date.
“So, what brings you here.” Ramona asked, stopping the camera from recording as her girlfriend shifted, “What’s up?”
“If you’re ready I’d like to have you over for dinner.” Julie shyly asked, avoiding Ramona’s gaze.
“That’s not new Birdie.” Ramona chuckled helping the shorter girl to her feet fingers caressing the bracelet that was a twin to her own. Julie’s eyes flicked down to the light pink shorts that matched the butterfly click in Ro’s hair.
“Not as my best friend. As my girlfriend.” Julie murmured fearing the response.
“Should I call your parents Mr and Mrs.” Ramona wondered, kissing Julie’s cheek as the other girl relaxed at the statement. Julie feared Ramona wasn’t ready or didn’t want to be at that stage in the relationship, “If you are ready, then so am I.”
“You’re the best thing to happen to me.” Julie beamed, “Oh! I wanna show you the song Mom, and I made!”
Julie tugged her pretty girlfriend to the front of the house to lead her to the Molina’s garage they renovated into a music studio. The girls’ laughter floating in the summer breeze, the relationship blooming under the sun as it developed further. Naïvely the two young teens believed nothing could rip them apart, if only they knew.
“So, I’m guessing she’s off-limits?” Reggie offered as he bounced on his heels, attempting to lighten the mood. The glare from Julie was enough to answer that question.
“Reg. Firstly, don’t date your friend’s ex. Secondly, you’re dead.” Alex deadpanned at his best friend to turn to Julie, “Are you okay?”
“No.” Julie honestly spoke, “I guess I never realized that losing my girlfriend also meant I would lose my best friend.”
On the other side of the school, Ramona Monet could finally smile as the memories with Julie regained the colour grief had erased. Ramona Monet was better than fine, she was happy.
uHm if you do these and if you want to do it I’d love a bnha matchup <3?
• my name is Aubri, I’m bi but prefer MHA boys tbh. I go by she/her, too.
• I’m a very Gryffindor person. (Sorry if you don’t know Harry Potter - 😖)
• I’m a June cancer, and I have ADHD and anxiety. My anxiety can be literally crippling somedays, but it’s gotten better overtime.
• I’m a bit of a class clown and usually just a clown 🤡 but that’s irrelevant. My teachers all hate me but like school-wise I do well so we have a love and mostly hate relationship 🤧
• I’m usually the ‘entertaining’ friend, in elementary the popular kids would invite me to play games with them because, “you’re funny” and it was like the biggest achievement ever 😭👍🏻 then they’d ignore me but that’s another therapy session
• I’m usually made fun of by people for being ‘weird’ and ‘insane’. Like all through elementary everyone thought I’d be a criminal when I grew up JUST BECAUSE I HAD UNDIAGNOSED ADHD - I hate it here 😐🦶🏻
• I’ve always been super into crime stories/true crime (where my anxiety comes from, I’m always worried about a pesky serial killer just killing me. It’s usually being kidnapped tho lmao) so I knew and still know like all these murder facts and sometimes I’d just randomly be like;
“Hey did you know it takes 12 hours and 2 days to dissolve a body in acid?”
or
“If you bury a dead deer over a dead body you buried deep in the ground, when police dogs sniff it and people dig they’ll just think it was the deer and won’t dig any farther.”
• So maybe people had a reason to be scared of me and think I’ll be a criminal someday, i dunno.
• I love love love reading and writing, and also debating. The things I’ve wanted to be when I grow up are basically: Dog shelter worker, actress, FBI agent, politician, and a writer. But usually I just want to do something that makes a positive impact on people. Like i wanted to be an FBI agent to solve crimes for people. I wanted to be a politican so I could actually help a lot of people. The entertainment industry also seemed like a way to make people happy. Idk, but then I decided I couldn’t be a politican at 10 because they were all corrupt and to be one I would have to be too. 😫🤌🏻 we love some good childhood angst
• the only subjects I’ve ever excelled at are ELA and Social Studies aka History, and Math I can’t do to save my life. ELA comes easy for me and I usually don’t have to work that hard and/or get too stressed over it. But I always get the meanest teachers for some reason. For example, one time I did my final essay for like 30% of my grade in 30 minutes the day it was due and I got an A+ 🦟🦗🦟🦗
• Uhhh id describe myself as a pretty loyal friend, I’m a ride or die type of girl. A story from my childhood that summarizes it pretty well is when I was in 2nd grade my friend wet her pants and she didn’t want to go to the nurse for it alone so I peed my pants so I could go with her and she wouldn’t have to be alone. Like, you know, a professional problem solver
• and I have genuinely attacked people for fucking with my friends but don’t snitch pls 🕳🏃♀️💨
• But also just anyone, people at my school tend to come to me with their problems for me to either help solve them by reasoning, or just to confront the other person like the bad bleep I am 😈😈
• I also have a huge daydreaming problem, it’s literally maladaptive daydreaming. So paired with my ADHD I don’t get shit done like ever.
• I have really high empathy levels I guess, like I always say hi to everyone I see on the street, especially if they look sad 😔 I’ve done it ever since I was a little kiddo.
• My fashion sense is very much a preppy/alt style. I wear those ripped tights and fishnets, I also have the MOST BIZARRE JEWELRY- like who allowed me to buy the gummy worm glittery earrings, hmmm???????? and those Mary Janes???????
• But I love crew necks and pleated skirts so I always obide by the National “hoes dont get cold” policy 🇺🇸😫🦅
• I wanna move somewhere someday, I don’t want to stay in America for very long
• I can speak Latin, French, and my native language which is English.
• My music taste varies, but my all-time favorite artists who all of their music they’ve ever put out has been my favorites are, Billie Eilish, Melanie Martinez, and Conan Gray.
• I no-joke have a sign in my front yard that says;
In ✍️ this ✍️ house we ✍️ don’t ✍️ worship Jesus ✍️ but instead ✍️ Melanie ✍️ Martinez
• My favorite shows are MHA (duh), The Promised Neverland, and Malcolm in The Middle.
• and I’m not going to tell you what I prefer in a partner, because that ruins the fun 😤
• but I will say I cannot be friends with someone who doesn’t really make me laugh. Like I’m used to doing most of the talking in convos but if you’re just boring I’m sorry it’s nothing personal but no thanks 😐✌🏻
• About my physical appearance, I have fluffy n curly brown hair, but when it’s in the sunlight it looks sort of brown but golden yk?? It’s shoulder length :) I have bleach blonde streaks in the front. I like wearing eyeliner most days, too. I’m pretty average size/ on the skinnier side. Kinda high key inscure abt my body bc I got flat shamed in elementary EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TIDDIES NOW- whatever 😤🙄. I also have crystal type blue eyes, and I do have fairly big eyes. But, like, not weirdly big. A good big. My cheekbones are ALWAYS PRESENT so sometimes I get called a Tim Burton character but it’s cool ig ☠️☠️ oh and I’m kinda short. I’m 5’3, even though my doctor said I’d be 5’7. I feel like I was either tricked by the doctor or someone just stole my destined height while I was asleep. It’s probably cause I didn’t keep an eye out for Selener 👁 😔😔
• I’m a definite night owl, like all of my energy comes at night which really sucks cuz I can’t do much since everyone else is asleep.
• My love language is touch starved so I’ve never figured it out ✌🏻😗🔫
• but I am an attention whore so idk 😏
• I’m a huge introvert with social anxiety. It isn’t as bad as it used to be cuz I used to not be able to like go to restaurants but now I’m much better.
• I’m a huge history person, mostly like sad history LMFAO. Uh but a lot of my hyperfixations have been on history. Some examples are The Roman Empire, Julius Caesar himself, Anne Frank, The Titanic, the Black Plauge, Helen Keller, Marie Curie, Slavery in the US, Joan of Arc, and just a lot more. I always love talking about these things if someone would let me ramble to them but no one ever does 😖 it also got to a point where for all these subjects I’d go to the library and try to find a book on them but usually I’d either have already read it or I’d read it and know all the information.
• I’m super into Greek Mythology, I have 7 books filled with the stories, I’m going to Greece maybe this summer to see it’s history, and named my hamster Aphrodite but we call her Aphie. I also will talk about this forever and ever if you let me.
• My favorite color is yellow, my favorite food is literally nothing I never have an appetite, my favorite planet is Saturn, favorite song is Tag Your It by Melanie Martinez atm but it changes like everyday.
• Music is a huge safe-space for me if I’m feeling down or having a panic attack. It calms me down n is overall my coping mechanism 💃🏻💃🏻
• Biggest fear is spiders, even looking at one gives me a panic attack and I cannot sleep at all for that night, adding to my insomniac ass 🧎🏻♂️🏌️♀️
• I’m mature for my age, I don’t exactly like hanging around kids my age and I get along better with older crowds.
• i don’t like conventional dates, (I PROMISE IM NOT TRYING TO SOUND ‘QUIRKY’ AHAHA) I kind of like having a best-friend type partner more so dates that aren’t as romantic as like the movies or a fancy restaurant suite me better. My dream date is playing Monopoly on my bedroom floor 🦧
• Also I hate getting gifts. End of story. If someone gets me a gift like awe that’s nice but never again, I’d prefer to get you one. Especially in a romantic partner 😐 i keep a journal of my friends’ interests and hobbies so I can get them the perfect gifts for their bdays and Christmas’s. Been doing this ever since 4th grade.
• Though I don’t have much actual experience with relationships🧍🏻♀️
• I’m a huge believer in ‘family isn’t blood, it’s who you make it’ because I have a pretty shitty family life and my childhood has been trash. My friends are my family to me.
• Also if my friends don’t like my romantic partner ✨ GOODBYE ✨. Sorry girlie, bros before hoes 🦨💨
I was going to put more but I’m so so sorry for how LONG AND COMPLICATED THIS IS- idk if this is a autobiography or a matchup at this point 🤦♀️ don’t feel pressured to do this and if matchups aren’t open IM SO SO SORRY LMAO uh yeah ilysm 🦎🎂🧃
OMG ASLDFKJHASLKDJH
🥺 i’m so sorry bby but matchups are closed ;-; my 100 follower event was over while ago (i guess i should’ve specified that in the asks i answered LKSAJHFLKJAHDS SORRY IT’S MY BAD) but you sound so cool?? i had a lot of the same hyperfixations interests (heLLO helen keller was badass AF and the roman empire was messed up but still v cool, anne frank was awesome too) i also may or may not have wanted to be a politician when i was younger alskdjfhalkdhj but now i’m just 🧍🏻♀️ lost and anyways you’re amazing >.< love u lots and don’t forget to drink water and eat a lil something hehe :p
Howdy! Remember that scene in 2:06 where Annie is going on about Beth's dong fog? Well, she says "I can't stand watching them together" (might be paraphrasing). Had me wondering what they have been acting like in those off camera meetings after the girls found out about them. Head canon maybe?
Anon! This is such an old prompt, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it, but I hope maybe this little ficlet is worth it. Hope you enjoy it :-)
Her perfect housewife, total nerd, maybe criminal mastermindsister, and their terrifying, violent, definite criminal mastermind gangfriend,and honestly, maybe Annie should be less surprised. After all, it’s not likeeither of them have been subtle about their eye fucking, and hell, even beforethis latest development she swears she could smell it on them, the pheromonesjust like, radiating off the two of them like a skunk funk.
But god, that bar the other night had been a totally newtype of embarrassing. The way he’d swaggered on over, his eyes on her like he knewexactly what he was doing, a set to his shoulders that was all mating dance –peacock feathers up, and Beth just like, staring right back at him all - - intoit, like she was ready to make a nest and start laying eggs for him or somethingand just - -
It was gross, okay? And Beth had been like, a zeroon the embarrassment scale when she should’ve been a solid 98 million,storming out of the bar like she wouldn’t have murdered Annie for even entertainingthe thought of doing what she’d done, and Annie had spent the night in ateary fury imagining every possible outcome for this - - this development -- and never seeing a situation that didn’t end up with her sister dead or –worse – hurt.
(“And you think dragging her over the coals is going to stopeither of those things?” Ruby had asked her over the phone later that night whenshe’d called to check in, and Annie had frowned, topping up the vodka in herchipped mug.
“Yes,” she insists. Then: “No. Maybe. God, Ruby, you can’tseriously think this is a good idea?”
“Of course not, but making Beth feel bad for gettin’ somewith someone who isn’t Dean for the first time in her entire life is not a goodidea either.”)
Anyway here they are again, sitting in the back of BolandMotors, waiting for Rio to deliver a truckload of unwashed cash to theirdoorstep and blab on about how much he’s looking forward to his sixty percentwhich is frankly bull, because they’re doing all the hardwork and surelythey should be getting a better cut since Beth is like, literally blowing thedude.
And isn’t that an image? Annie scowls, gagging briefly, legjittery underneath her.
She can’t even imagine Beth like - -
Ugh.
She bets he has a big dick.
He’s got that total vibe after all, that energy, and- - huh.
Annie squints at Beth.
She’s always kind of figured Dean had a micro penis, so thatmust be an adjustment and a half.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Beth hisses suddenly, ablush having creeped up her neck, and Annie blinks, folds her arms over herchest, gives Beth the best ‘Beth Look’ Annie can manage.
“Like what?”
“You know like what,” Beth insists, and Ruby groans besidethem at the same time Annie loudly scoffs.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sister, if you’re inferring somethingin my look. You know, maybe that’s more a reflection on your guilty conscience,not my feelings, because I –”
“Yo.”
Beth sits up straight suddenly, pink dusting her cheeks nowtoo and Annie scoffs again, looking sideways at where Rio’s materialised infront of them like he’s just beamed down from the USS Enterprise, or - - no, hewould never get into Star Fleet. He’d be like one of the Klingons or something,sure, the most handsome one to ever exist, but that’s irrelevant.
He’s bad news through and through, and Beth is like somesacrificial virgin or something and just - -
“Is that all of it?” Beth asks, and somehow she’s managed toget the bag off Rio and count it out in the time it’s taken Annie to catch up.She glances quickly over to Rio, at his stupid handsomeness and his sharpfeatures and his raised eyebrow and his eyes all up in Beth’s business.
“Little early to be uppin’ drops, darlin’,” he says, andugh, darling?
Annie scowls, gaze shifting back to Beth who doesn’t even reactto it, just powers through.
“We washed all your cash in record time last week.”
“Yeah, but you were,” he looks at her, purses his lower lipin a way that feels frankly obscene, and adds. “Motivated.”
And yes, Annie thinks with a scoff, motivated by theprospect of the cops finding the body he’d ordered them to kill, but - - wait,is that what he means?
Her gaze flicks between the two of them in horror. Did theymake some sort of sex deal on top of that?
Ugh.
She looks at Ruby, who’s just staring at the ceiling so shedoesn’t have to look at them, and Annie would do the same if she thought shehad it in her to miss this.
“Well, what if we did it again?”
He grins and recollects himself so quickly that Annie almostthinks she’d made it up, the sharp tug to his lips like something he couldn’tquite contain in the moment of it, and it’s enough to make her reel back alittle. To watch the neon security lights catch the angles of his face, andmake him look like some sort of impossibly handsome demon you could hang thenext hit spooky-style franchise on. When he speaks, his voice is husky.
“Well then we could have another conversation, huh?”
“Right,” Beth says immediately, a little breathless, and shepuffs out her chest a bit which is just - - god, mortifying, and Rionods, eyes flicking down to her boobs like he knows exactly what they look likebeneath her grandma’s-curtains-blouse, which he must now, turning on hisheel to leave and Beth watches him, a look on her face that Annie doesn’t thinkshe’s ever seen before, like she’s - - hungry almost, and just - -
“Ugh,” Annie squawks and Beth swivels around, her eyes wide,like she hadn’t been two seconds away from climbing on his dick.
“What?”
“UGH,” Annie squawks louder, waving a hand at Beth before stormingaway towards her car.
2
The music is too loud.
Which feels, y’know, kind of like a big deal, because Annieloves loud music, but this bar isn’t playing Train or Sheryl Crow, it’s playinglike, cool music, because it’s a cool bar, and absolutely not Beth– the least cool person she knows.
“I hate this place,” Annie says, and she can feel Ruby rollher eyes beside her, taking a sip of her fire engine, which is franklyridiculous, because even Annie is too mature for fire engines, or - -hmm. Maybe not. She eyes it off. Maybe that’s her next drink.
“You’ve been telling us to go here for months,” Beth says acrossthe booth, and Annie gapes, because, okay, she had, but - -
“Yeah, well, that was before gangfriend decided he wanted tomix up our vibe, okay? Whatever happened to the park at midnight, huh? Brunchat Cloud 9? Okay, I know what happened to brunch at Cloud 9, but what about, y’know- - your back patio?”
Ruby snorts at that, waggling her eyebrows suggestively andtaking a sip on her straw.
“Think we know what happened to Beth’s back patio too.”
It’s enough to make Beth turn about eight different shadesof red, and for Annie to spin around to Ruby in disbelief, spilling her own drinka little in the process, which - - whatever, this is categorically more important.
“Was that an anal joke?”
The question immediately makes Ruby’s eyes open dramatically,her lips parting in horror around the straw in her mouth, cheeks flushing.
“No! I just meant those French doors open up onto Beth’sbedroom, oh my god, Annie.”
Annie scoffs dramatically, shoving her drink in Ruby’s face ina theatrical gesture of punctuation.
“Please, you know what you said.”
“Can we please stop talking about this,” Beth saysdesperately, and just - - Annie swivels around in her seat, back towards Beth,squinting at her sister, trying to read her expression, because that insistenceis pretty interesting.
“Did you guys do anal?”
“No,” Beth hisses, furious. “There was no - -”
And because the universe clearly hates them, Rio choosesthat exact moment to slide too easily into the booth beside Beth, and y’knowwhat? The thing is wide, deep even, but he slides in so close his arm is pushedagainst hers, and just - - god, it’s embarrassing, the way Beth’s eyes widen,the way she sort of lurches sideways before steeling herself, and sort of like –half pressing back into him? It’s really fucking awkward, but Rio doesn’t evenflinch.
“Ladies,” he says, gesturing to the bartender for a drink,who apparently drops every other customer in a five foot radius instantly to serveRio, and Annie glares at him because she waited twenty minutes for her drink,dammit. “You good?”
Ruby’s eyebrows are high up her forehead as she stares betweenthem, and god, Annie can’t blame her. Beth’s so red she could be used to stop traffic,and the air just feels weird and thick, and it’s that whole pheromonething again, and Annie just doesn’t even know how to begin to unpack that.
Luckily she doesn’t have to as Beth suddenly grabs the sportsbag from next to her in the booth, pulling it over herself to pass to Rio, onlyRio stops her, drops the bag to her lap and unzips it there, making neat workof counting through the cash, shifting in his seat enough his back can shield whatthey’re doing from prying eyes.
“It’s all there,” Beth says, her voice all girlish and breathyas Rio goes through the bag on her lap. He doesn’t even reply, but Beth jumps suddenlyand Annie blinks because the only explanation for that means that he must’ve gottento the bottom of the bag, which means the only thing between his hands and herthighs and - - vagina - - is the thin waterproof material of the bag itselfand her sister’s jeans.
“Cool,” Rio says suddenly, zipping up the bag and lurchingto his feet. He swings it over his shoulder, giving Beth a final, loaded look,and says: “See you next week. I’ll bring the funny money.”
He’s barely out of the bar before Annie lets loose a long, strangledscream.
3
She’s been staring at Beth for the last few minutes, tryingto place what’s different when her gaze drops to her sister’s breasts and she justthinks - -
Ah.
“Is that a new bra?”
It’s enough to make Beth spin dramatically around on thespot, her eyes wide, a little wild, her cheeks bright red, and whatever, Anniethinks, rolling her own eyes. That sort of feels like a given these days.
“What? No,” she flusters, flailing her arms, gaze dartingsideways to where Rio’s clambering out of his car a little further down the lot.He looks like he’s on his cell, talking to somebody or other, even as he pullsa bag off the backseat of his car. “How would you even know that?”
Annie just looks at her.
“I know all your clothes, including underwear. Plus youhaven’t worn a push up bra since like – ever – it’s not like you need one – andno offence, but your tits look like they’re about to become sentient, suffocateyou and take over your body.”
Beth just stares at her, and god, Beth really needs to learnto embarrass less easily. She’s like, nine different shades of red right now. Sheexhales sharply, looking irritated, gaze going sideways towards Rio and thenback to Annie, and then - -
“It was on sale,” she says quietly, and Annie snorts, but -- okay, maybe she feels a little bad when Beth slips a hand below the collar ofher shirt and starts surreptitiously fiddling with the strap on the thing. It’sjust the two of them tonight anyway – Ruby had had a shift at Dandy Donuts shecouldn’t quite squirm out of, and Annie had kind of hated the thought of seeingthe Beth and Rio show without her, but at least she didn’t have to deal with Rubyjudging her either.
So instead they both just stand there, watching Rio acrossthe lot, and he must know that they’re watching him, but he doesn’t acknowledgeit. Doesn’t even turn around to look at them, which honestly - - rude. Annieglances back at Beth, ready to basically tell her that she’s managed to landherself another asshole, only - -
Only Beth’s gaze is fixed. Her focus unwavering, her lips slightlyparted, like he has her hypnotised across the parking lot and that hunger’sthere, plain on her face, but there’s - - something different there too. Somethingthat runs a little deeper, that holds a little firmer, and Annie’s mouth closes,her forehead furrowing, and suddenly she needs to look away, uncomfortable, butnot for the reasons that she has been.
She hears the car door slam shut, and glances back up toRio, and the sound seems to have jerked Beth out of whatever had her in it’s griptoo, and well, at least the anger’s easier to hold onto again when Rio’s gazelaser focuses on Beth’s pushed up boobs.
“Hey, ladies,” he drawls, slipping the bag off his shoulder,but not quite passing it over yet. “Gonna invite me in?”
And Annie just watches.
Watches Beth flush, exhale, smile – just a little.
𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓𝖘 𝖍𝖖𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖊 // 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖉𝖞
word count : 2.8 k // points : 30.
001. describe your characters’ relationship with their mother or father, or both. minimum word count: 150.
Dismissive and deceptively distant. While Sophia is the embodiment of a teen who can’t stand her parents, this is massively untrue. Especially in regards to her mother. She perceives herself as emotionally detached from all persons but this couldn’t be further from the true disposition of her character. As a child, she ached for her mother’s affection that was distributed between three children. Being the middle of those three, it was seemingly difficult to be noticed which manifested into an unrelenting rage towards the only person she could project her anger onto; her little brother. As for her father, her connection to him was not as steadfast as the bond she upheld with her mother. Her relationship with her father was always more formal with brief moments of fatherly companionship. But her love for him was always viable and grounded.
002. what are your characters’ most prominent physical features? what is a feature that they are most insecure about? what are they proudest of?
Her most commonly attributed traits throughout her life were her blonde hair and green eyes. A very peculiar combination to many that invoked the bewitchment of many suitors in the french court. However, her height always made her feel relatively insecure but not so much as the moles located on her neck. She has heard such markings are the work of the antichrist and commonly associated with witchcraft. To avert attention from them, she prefers to wear bedazzling garnishments around her neck with a headpiece that cascades down her shoulders. Her proudest feature is awkwardly her nose. This feature appears particularly Austrian and Sophia is known to be incredibly prideful of her homeland.
003. how vain is your character? do they find themselves attractive? what is their worst flaw, and are they aware of it?
Sophia doesn’t weight her value on her appearance nor is it something that commonly afflicts her. Growing up in the french court, she was known as an Austrian beauty. The French were besotted with her for her appearance and many suitors attempted to vie for her hand in marriage since she was 15. Her perception of beauty is more weighted on the characteristics of a person rather than their outwardly visage. In that respect, she does find herself attractive. But in consideration of her semblance, she thinks herself plain. Not ugly but not outrageously pulchritudinous. Her greatest flaw, in her own eyes, are the moles on her neck. She also has some sparse freckles around her nose she feels as though she could do without.
004. what is your character’s ranking on the kinsey scale?
She scored a 2. I regard Sophia as being pansexual but favoring being heterosexual for the rate at which it’s accepted. She has had sexual fantasies involving women and her curiosity for it is wild. Mostly, her attraction is not weighted on gender, but the disposition of one’s character. She holds very high standards, but appearances and sex is not a defining factor in her attraction to anyone.
005. describe your character’s happiest memory. minimum word count: 150.
Sadly, Sophia’s happiest memory also entwines with her saddest. On the day of her husband’s death, she attended mass with the people of Luxembourg as it was a Sunday. Her bravery and composition was astounding enough to move several others to tears in mourning for both her and her deceased husband. The people of Luxembourg accumulated outside of the cathedral once the service was over to honor and praise her. As she made way from the cathedral to her carriage, a path was created for her where many stood to the side to bless her as she walked by during snowfall. Some were shivering and still awaited the moment of their opportunity to admire her. While she maintained her composure for the better half of the excursion, she broke into tears upon seating herself within her carriage, overwhelmed by the conflicting feelings of both love and grief. In her life, she had never felt so loved by a people. It was an intoxicating sentiment of reverence and something she desired even more after experiencing it.
006. is there one event in your characters’ life that they would like to erase from their past? why? minimum word count: 200.
So I hate to be this person, but there aren’t any regrets Sophia holds onto as everything does seem to happen for a reason; the continuity of fate and cause and effect. Even the death of her husband is not something she would take back for she would be taking back the sacred vibes of their memories together that i think she would be thankless for had his death not occurred. As well as her drive to strive for more for herself and her future kin. if she were to take back anything, it would be something as minute as a poor fashion taste when she was 12. Something that wouldn’t affect her timeline but perhaps spare her some embarrassment for sake of image. For all that she is and hopes to be, Sophia gives thanks to her past and every bad moment of that past no matter the circumstances. All of it was meant to be apart of her story no matter how sad or without justice it was. I also believe this ideal shows how much she has matured in the last few years as if you asked her this when she was little, she probably would like to erase a lot of things to spare her of her grief.
007. let’s talk favourites! what is their favourite colour, food, and season? what, in a modern setting, would be your character’s favourite song?
Sophia likes delicate colors, specifically whites and yellows. She definitely has a sweet tooth and adores dark chocolate but also enjoys fruits like peaches and grapes. Her favorite season is winter as she loves snow but she also greatly admires autumn for its colors. Her favorite song in a modern era would be All I Do Is Cry by Kim Petras. Honestly, she would be a huge Kim Petras and Slayyyter fan. She would have been so into Britney Spears as a child and would definitely need that modern Britney vibe in music she likes.
008. can you define a turning point in your character’s life?
i think the pivotal point in Sophia’s timeline of events was her being sent to France. It really did end up paving the way for who she would become and also aided in the union to Luxembourg that would ultimately show her a taste of leadership and power.
009. is your character an early morning bird or a night owl? at what time do they get most of their work done?
Both. Sophia doesn’t sleep very much and never has been a well sleeper which was a nightmare when she was a toddler. She suffers from insomnia, though this is not yet diagnosable so it’s just safe to say she’s terrible at sleeping and averages maybe 5 hours of sleep a night. In my head, she does wear very light makeup to cover dark circles from her lack of sleep but sometimes they can be particularly dark and difficult to conceal.
010 a. what other character, a npc or someone apart of the rp, is your character completely real with? who knows them best, has seen them at their most vulnerable, knows their innermost and basest fears?
Sophia was incredibly reserved in the beginning of her marriage to Guillaume. She disliked him, being still young and naive when they first married as she trusted rumors he was ugly and disabled and his disposition matched his countenance. However, he was quite the opposite. His disfigurement was one leg was an inch shorter than the other which caused a limp and required him to use a cane to walk but he was otherwise handsome and kind. He was a solemn man, yet very humorous in her presence and considerate of her feelings. Even when he barely knew her, he prioritized her comfort. Slowly, Sophia eased up to him and became very open, sharing many of her secrets, desires and fears with him. She was most vulnerable to him, knowing he would never take advantage of this information. All in all, he was not only her husband, but her closest friend and confidant. His death made her a lot more reserved to opening herself up to others with the idea instilled that everyone goes away in the end and their love can only go so far.
011. is your character a neat or messy person?
She is very neat without question. Her organization skills are astounding as she believes organization is part of being a good leader. That and I do believe messes give her a great deal of anxiety for a lack of a better term. She already has a hard enough time sleeping, but trying to sleep when she knows there is a mess somewhere in her chambers? Absolutely not happening.
012. does your character have any irrational fears or phobias?
A fear of becoming irrelevant in history. She wants to make her mark. She wants to be remembered for her accomplishments and contributions to the advancement of history. She’s very into philosophy and considers often the insignificance of life which frightens her. She can only prevent it the best way she knows how which is through her ambitions.
013. does your character have an underlying passion or trait that influences all aspects of their life?
I wouldn’t say it’s underlying considering it defines her existence. But her passion for leadership; for the advancement of humanity. She believes ideas and theories are constantly evolving and that they will one day live in a world so advanced beyond her recognition. Her duty to the world is to be a stepping stone in that advancement. To prevent sickness, cure and abolish poverty; these are all things she thinks the future holds and it’s important to her to be apart of that in her contribution. She absolutely strives for power but I think in a good way. Not for the purpose of unfound riches and praise but to propel her successors into a better, more viable future.
014. what might your character’s ideal romantic person be?
Someone who she can trust. Someone that respects her ideals and is capable of listening to her opinions. As well as a person she can share laughs with. I think she’s prepared to deal with the likelihood of infidelity given that she’s likely to marry into high status. I can’t say she would particularly like it, but it’s definitely expected in these circumstances. If things were more simple, I think she could easily have everything she dreams of in a companion. But because of the cards she was dealt and the life she continues to accept and even want, her standards for whats acceptable are relatively low. But for falling in love, she does have particularly high standards. I just don’t think she believes she will find true love in the same way she was fortunate enough to find it with Guillaume.
015. describe your character’s hands. are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby, dexterous or clumsy? do they wear any jewelry and would they wear polish in a modern setting?
She has elongated fingers with nails filed into an oval shape that slightly extend over her nailbed. Her knuckles and fingertips are red and both her middle fingers are crooked. She wears several rings on her hands but switches the specific rings out according to what she wears that day. So it’s often different. Jewelry and overall fashion is her way of displaying her wealth and I don’t think she’s afraid to go over the top. In a modern setting, she would be getting manicures every two weeks. The coffin shaped nails with rings stacked. I think she would primarily go for singular colors with an accent nail, but sometimes she will feel festive like during halloween or christmas and get specific designs done on her nails.
016. how does your character smell? what is their favourite scent?
Sophia is particular about smells but doesn’t like them to be overpowering. She prefers subtle hints. She likes to burn incense within the confinements of her chambers both for the pleasant smell and the calming effect they provide. She also keeps a bowl of rosewater in her chambers at all times to wash her hands and face. Most predominantly, she smells of lavender from the lavender oil she spreads on her wrists, neck and chest. Her favorite scent however is the smell of rain incoming. She also enjoys the scents of fruits and sweets which is perhaps why she likes them so much.
017. how would your muse describe their religious beliefs?
She is a devout Catholic but not extremely religious. She goes to mass like most others and prays often. But I don’t think it extends beyond that. She already trusts she has been accepted into God’s kingdom and will be rewarded for the things she will come to make of herself in the future. She is very confident in her future tenure and what she has already accomplished.
018. what rules does your muse live by, if any?
Don’t trust anyone. Always have a purpose and direction. Never feel satisfied with your work as there is always room for improvement. I think these are her main principles that really guide her through life.
019. does your muse overshare, or are they more private?
Definitely private. She has a tendency to not speak unless spoken to. However, she gives much voice to her opinions on significant matters. But as far as her feelings go, I think anyone is more likely to get struck by lightning than see the day Sophia opens up and overshares. And if she did, I think she would be absolutely mortified upon realizing she may have said too much. She is very cautious of what she says, giving consideration to her future prospects.
020. is your muse a gossiper? are they more likely to argue with their fists or tongue? what does their voice sound like?
Sophia is a listener. She does not engage in gossip by contributing, but she does encourage others to speak it to her through manipulative tactics. It keeps her a step ahead to know. She is definitely more likely to use her tongue as her primary weapon due to her sharp wit and power being Her Imperial Highness of Austria. Her voice is very soft and melodic. Despite Austrian German being her first language, she puts a profound effort in correct annunciation and even accents of other languages she knows. She is very fluid with her speech, though her accent will show through from time to time.
021. is your muse a … pessimist or optimist … lover or fighter … believer in happy endings … believer in love at first sight?
She is more a realist than anything. If a situation is plausible, she’s definitely more on the optimistic side and does believe good things come to those with good intentions. But she can also tell when something is looking grim and doesn’t desire to get her hopes compromised. So she remains fairly neutral. I can’t say she believes in happy endings because everyone eventually dies and that’s not quite so happy but she does believe in accomplishing the things you want in a lifetime and departing of this world satisfied with what you’ve made of your time. She does not believe in love at first sight as she is not one to fall in love with looks. It takes time for her to fall for someone.
022. what sense of humour does your character have?
She can be a little vicious with her humor but this humorous side only comes out when she feels comfortable with someone so it’s still a good sign. Otherwise, I wouldn’t say she has much of a sense of humor. Just quick wit.
023. what bad habits does your character have?
Nothing terrible like gambling or excessive drinking. Her bad habits are rather silly but her mother would always scold her for them. Like nail biting or rubbing her nose. For some reason, she likes her hands near her face as some sort of comfort mechanism.
024. how does your character feel about growing old?
She’s okay with it as long as she does something with herself. Elderly women are often regarded with much prestige and recognition as significant figures in politics. However, it does bother her she’s considered to be at a point where she should have two children by now. She fears her biological clock is ticking as a woman. Which is funny to me considering 23 is still a baby honestly.
025. does your character prefer adventure to safety and security?
She doesn’t strike me as being super adventurous because she’s definitely more focused on other things like sovereignty. She loves being outdoors, especially in the winter, but I don’t see her venturing beyond confinements she’s familiar with. So I would say she prefers safety and security.
under the cut because there’s some culturally sensitive stuff in here
mmm, there’s someone whom i’m in a mutual discord server with, and she’s of chinese and korean descent. it’s well-known in the discord that i’m ethnically chinese but my cultural background is rather culturally japanese, and i do like japanese culture
she dm’d me and was like, ‘is it bad that i drag weaboos?’ and i was like ??? ‘cringe culture is not great but like, we all self-drag anyway lmao so idk’ and she goes on this entire talk about how she can’t think of japanese culture as something worth ‘worshipping’ and how she can’t ever appreciate japanese culture because she’s salty about japanese treatment of chinese and korean people in the 20th century
and at this point i’m like? kind of weirded out lmao because i think it’s kind of unfair? i’m in no way defensive about japanese history, especially for this time period, because my family is ethnically chinese. both my parents are chinese and my grandparents lived through this time period in history. also i’m a historian, and i don’t fuck around with erasure lmao
but at the same time i do have a japanese background. ish. my parents lived in hiroshima for a decade, and at home we’ve always eaten japanese food, listened to japanese music, watched japanese films/tv shows/anime, read japanese stories, were raised with really japanese manners ... the sports teams we support are even the local sports teams of hiroshima ... GO CARP
(though my relationship with my ‘japanese-ness’ is very complicated, because my parents never taught us to refer to ourselves as japanese -- we were americans, and my parents also never taught us japanese, i learnt it by myself at age 10 -- though my father confesses that he is confused about whether he’s really american, chinese, or japanese. my mom feels firmly chinese and my brother american. only my dad and i are confused lmao)
ok, so i explain to her reasons why i think westerners like japanese culture. but in turn she gets really defensive about chinese culture? and i’m like, ‘it’s not like i’m saying that chinese culture doesn’t also have these traits, but people think of these traits in relation to japan more than with china, i think, for the most part’. it’s not as if i’m not familiar with chinese culture either lmfao my name may be japanese but it's a reference to a chinese poem, and i lived in china for 6 long and terrible years
and she says she doesn’t understand why people can like japan and guesses that she just doesn’t like it because she’s biased (true). she says that she doesn’t like that her grandma is too embarrassed to even speak about wwii. which then kind of baffles me because i was never the kind of person to derive my own opinions from my grandparents. maybe i’m a bad descendant but i never blindly believe what my elders believe. lmao my father’s mother hates japan with a burning passion and thinks mao ze dong is the greatest man on earth. obviously i don’t subscribe to that kind of stuff
at this point i’m telling her that i can understand where she’s coming from. a lot of young people i know are really caught up in a lot of emotion when it comes to their historical background. i’ve never been nationalistic or emotionally connected to any country, so i can’t say i empathise. i do tell her that i think all cultures are beautiful and worth understanding and appreciating, but it is important to keep historical context in mind because one should never see a country or culture as ‘faultless’ (which is why i hate yellow fever and people idolising asian culture in the first place. you can admire and appreciate but you should also be aware and critical). yet at the same time it’s not fair to hold this one historical event against an entire culture
but all she does is tell me how much she dislikes japan and thinks they’re despicable. she’s upset that in american schools they don’t teach about this stuff. lmao as a history professional i am fucking aware and i say that it really is unfortunate but nations use the history as a nationalistic, propagandistic tool. also, teachers only have one year to teach SO MUCH HISTORY. they’re going to cut off what is ‘irrelevant’ to most americans
though, on the other hand, chinese national curriculum on the sino-japanese war is very, very much problematic. not to say that china’s grievances aren’t legitimate or valid, but the chinese government has been mining this historical event for years for nationalism by consistently portraying chinese people as a righteous people but always victim. taking on the role of a victim is a very quick way for a country to rouse nationalism. when i went to school in china, in 2003-2010, my textbooks on CHINESE LANGUAGE (not history!!!) included phrases like ‘日本鬼子’ (japan demons), which is the chinese phrase for ‘jap’. i was in primary and secondary school. i wasn’t even a fucking teenager yet. they were already brainwashing kids by this age (all textbooks are government-written and issued). we didn’t cover this in school because there were chinese-japanese kids in my school, but they could have easily read it. thinking back, i’m terrified by this
while i think it’s necessary to know your history, i don’t think history should be so sensationalised and so emotional. history is ... in many ways like a science. it requires objectivity and perspective. i also see it necessary to consider all sides of a historical event. i have read terrible things when i was in university. i have read mein kampf and i absolutely hated it, but i am glad i read it, because it was an invaluable resource and perspective. i think it’s cowardly to not want to understand someone or something just because you see one another as enemies or whatever. maybe that makes me insensitive, but i see that as my advantage
i think that in a way hypernationalism is contributing to this continued tension in east asia. japan is unwilling to apologise to china and korea (which is wrong ... @ abe shinzo bitch apologise!!), and as a result china and korea continue to mine the emotional trauma of this time, and continue to bewail and accuse japan as monsters while acting rudely towards japanese people in public ... and as a result japanese people think chinese and korean people are rude and ignorant, and their preexisting racist attitudes towards chinese and korean people are confirmed ... all sides are justified and valid in what they’re thinking but i think an unwillingness to move on is causing this cycle. and i don’t know if there’s a good way to break it
but the fact that?? there’s a younger generation who is also so vitriolic about this?? really disturbs me. how is this not also similar to young american conservatives who believe everything their grandparents say about guns, race in america, and whatever? (you could argue that white americans are not victimised and i would wholeheartedly fucking agree with you there, but the issue is that THEY believe that THEY ARE victimised because they don’t know their history, fools) how could you be so narrow-minded and reject an entire culture just because you’re angry about? history?
while history is not all past and gone, sometimes the memory aspect of history really disturbs me as a historian. it’s hard to grasp and understand, because all those emotions are valid, but at the same time they can be destructive forces in the recounting of history and engage in counterproductive ways with the present. maybe i feel this way because i don’t like emotions and i don’t have any. i’m not sure.
this was a really strange conversation to have. i don’t know why she wanted to talk to me about it, because she clearly wasn’t trying to make me feel bad about ?? my japanese background and liking stuff like anime and whatnot?? and i’m really, really ashamed for japan for what they did, but as a historian i have no emotion towards it besides an objective judgment that it was bad, and as someone with chinese and american background i don’t hold anything against japan either, despite what they did to both these countries.
i guess i’m just really disappointed that people just can’t move past things like this. even though i’m a historian and i deal with the past, i feel like it’s counterproductive and foolish to let the past stop you from enjoying something or experiencing something. her emotions were valid i’m sure and she probably couldn’t control it, but this conversation just frustrated me so much. i believe that the world is made better through mutual understanding, awareness, and a level of appreciation. if you spend your entire life hating everything about a certain country or culture, that’s really miserable and cannot enrich yourself.
furthermore, our conversation devolved into another tangent about how not enough stuff about ‘non western’ stuff is taught in america. which i agree, is true. as a multicultural state america should do this. but she talked about how we should teach LESS about certain figures in western history, and i disagreed so much. god, just because you think there are important events in asian history doesn’t diminish the importance of western history to a WESTERN COUNTRY. all history is important and worthy!! even though i don’t like it either there’s a reason why we spend so much time on the french revolution and less on, say, the opium wars! christ!
i don’t blame her at all, but i needed to put this somewhere because this conversation pissed me off on so many levels. it was too black and white when history and historical education is decidedly not. i’m just frustrated that people can’t move on, and try to argue with me about it when i clearly don’t want to argue. i just want to offer an explanation or historian’s standpoint. why is it so hard for people to understand? and am i weird for not feeling anything? who knows.
Part of me believes I will never truly part with so many things. And sometimes everything hurts, not necessarily in a bad way, though. I feel myself drift sometimes but I always come back to the reality that I control everything I do or have done. I always have the power to say no. I really dissociate a lot and that may be unhealthy but it’s also gratifying. I find myself in so many things and I feel like I'm able to appreciate those things even more because of that.
May 9th of last year I truly wanted to die. I was going to do it. Someone still very important to me talked me out of it, thank God, but it was so hard for me to move on after that. I made a pact with myself after that where since I was going to be going on a big road trip out west (I'm from Florida) and seeing the Grand Canyon and whatnot, I figured I would have seen everything I needed to, and if I was still unhappy with life after that, I'd officially end it. I fucking hate every ounce of having to admit that. it still hurts to think about it. I still can’t really admit to myself that I like living, but I know that I need to go on, that I can change something, and I feel like that’s improvement in itself. I still feel that way sometimes, but I always try to tell myself that I need to be the person I thought that I'd be when I was a little 3rd grader in Mrs. Garland’s class named Hailey. I had such high hopes for myself.
When I was little, I didn’t know what I wanted and I still don’t. In 3rd grade, I was in a musical for Aladdin; in 4th grade, it was something called Toy Camp; in 5th grade it was Jack & the Beanstalk. During this time, minus 3rd grade, I was in chorus and it was everything I'd hoped for. I always wanted to be involved in music, always, always, always. In 6th grade I wasn’t in band at all. in 7th, after a huge argument and trying to tell them that I thought I was depressed (they didn't take it seriously) I joined! I started on clarinet and I was really good at it. In 8th grade I was in the symphonic band and it felt like no one liked me and unfortunately that feeling lasted into freshman year. Except for one guy during band camp, but he’s kind of irrelevant even though he fucking broke my heart twice but that’s besides the point (also besides the point: I know I'd still absolutely get back with him and drop everything for him which is also so so sad) um, my grades started to go to shit but they were enough. So, this year, I was a sophomore and I can say I got better, gladly. I've been clean since last May 9th of 2017. Marching season was amazing and I've honestly never felt so close to the people around me. My grades are still fucking ass and I honestly don’t know if I passed sophomore year, but I'm gonna do summer school to make up the credits nonetheless.
I can’t believe I fucking did it. One year clean! This is the most I've ever been and I have so much love in my heart right now for everything and everyone around me. I know everything will be okay. The world won’t come crashing down if I fucking stutter when I speak. I will be okay. the world will keep spinning and I have trust in that. I have trust in my peers and my family and my teachers. The world isn’t that good right now but I will always hold onto band as something sacred in my life. My guidance counselor was almost disappointed in me when I was explaining how much band meant to me. I always thought I wanted to go into music and while I'm second guessing that now, it doesn’t mean it‘s on the backburner. It probably shouldn’t be, but school is. Band impacts me mentally and socially so much more than SCHOOL does.Band has taught me how to be compassionate and trusting and it means so much to me and I really genuinely do not know how other people do not see that.
Life is so much better now. I will carry the scars on my left arm happily and shamelessly and I know I have it better than a lot of people. I tried to find God this year and I’ve been skeptical the whole time but I can truly say I've never felt him inside of me more than I do now. We are all tiny specks but I have so much love for so many people and things and I will live to see the light of day until I die and I will live to go to the Louvre and Musée d'Orsay and Monet's home in Giverny and fucking travel. I will do it. Everything will be okay. I am the only person truly with me for the rest of my life. I'm alive and breathing and crying and my heart’s beating and I have feelings for people and I think people are attractive and I love celebrities and I'm bisexual and I'm from Orlando and I love Savannah, Georgia and I love bookstores and I love Call Me By Your Name and Alien and Fall Out Boy and art and music and watching people act and I love fashion BECAUSE I CAN. I have been looking for the negatives. It’s time to start looking for the positives. It’s time to start looking for the positives in even though I've been standing in set for 5 minutes straight in silence and my arms are giving out and my feet hurt and even though I've been working for 5 hours and my eyes burn from looking at the computer screen forever there’s always a positive.
Someone makes my heart happy. A few people do. And I will never have them. That‘s okay. I can still love them but let them go. I can still love their laugh, or their walk, or their style, or their smile, I can still love their hands. I can still miss the way it felt hugging them or pressed up against them when they ran their hand down my hair in the movie theater that one time. I can still feel their touch on my skin and how much freedom I felt when I was in good standing with them. I feel the same freedom letting them go. It hurts I never got to kiss them and saw them kiss someone else or pine after someone else every day. But I'm okay with it, because I remember when I'd hug them and I felt their heart go a million miles an hour because I was so close to them. I miss making them feel that way and while I hate seeing someone else do what I couldn’t, I'll be able to do it again with someone else someday.
I will find peace and happiness and love with someone else through time. I have to pay my dues for that. I will settle down and I will find out what I love or what the content of love is through time. I may finish school when I'm 50, but that’s okay. I have one life to live and I'll be damned if I live it in nothing but peace and love and happiness and everything I dreamed about when I was little. I'm going to do what I have to, finish school, graduate, join the navy after I graduate, get out when I'm 21 and go from there. I can’t do this by myself. but it’s only me who can decide what I do and who I listen to and what rules I follow and it’s only me who can motivate myself. I'll be able to go to France and become fluent in French and I'll learn about psychology and I won’t fuck with those bullshit AP classes and I may have to do the bare minimum to graduate but I don’t have to go to fucking Harvard or Yale to get a good education. It’s not about that. I will learn everything as I go. There’s always going to be more negatives than positives but the positives make everything SO GOOD. I just have to do this and cherish the life I was given and the moments and seconds and relationships i’m given with people. I don’t fully love myself yet but i’m getting there. I have so much love to share, the love I was missing out on during middle school and these past 2 years of high school.
I'm working on it. You should too. Believe in yourself. We are eternal.
As per the request of @my-insanity-is-irrelevant, here goes nothing. Not even gonna reblog the ask meme post bc I’m literally answering every question rip
1. What is you middle name? Marie. #basic
2. How old are you? 19.
3. When is your birthday? May 31.
4. What is your zodiac sign? Gemini. I’m actually two people and they’re both snakes.
5. What is your favorite color? I honestly don’t have one, they all have their perks. I do tend to favor cooler and darker colors tho
6. What’s your lucky number? 7 and 9, but odd numbers tend to treat me nicely in general.
7. Do you have any pets? Three! A Boxer named Buster, and two 14 y/o cats named Asheley and Nadia. Here’s hoping for many more in the future. :’)
8. Where are you from? Born in Seattle, raised in the greater St. Louis area, and going to school in Muncie, IN.
9. How tall are you? 5′6″
10. What shoe size are you? 8 in American women’s size.
11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? Oh lord. Probably like 15 because I refuse to get rid of any, but I only wear like 4.
12. What was your last dream about? Roller coasters and an ex being nasty. DJ Khaled was there.
13. What talents do you have? I’m fairly good at reading people, and also drawing. I’m also a quick learner, if that counts as a talent?
14. Are you psychic in any way? I wish. I have a weird force of karma that seems to follow the people who have hurt me around, but that could be coincidence. I’ve helped check other people’s energies (as well as my own) before, but my knowledge is limited and I don’t think I have the sense of self to pursue that right now.
15. Favorite song? At no point in my life have I had just one, but “Fury” by Muse and “Love is Mystical” by the Cold War Kids are up there right now.
16. Favorite movie? Wonder Woman was so, so good, y’all. I also like
17. Who would be your ideal partner? daisy ridley right now, my standards are both really low and really high. Just...someone I get along with and who gives a rat’s ass?
18. Do you want children? I think I might, yeah. Depends on who I end up with, but I like the idea of making small humans and showing them how the world works. Teaching others has always helped me figure shit out, anyway.
19. Do you want a church wedding? nooooo thank you
20. Are you religious? Not in the sense that I participate in organized religion, but I do believe in aspects of many different religions. I’m particularly fond of reincarnation.
21. Have you ever been to the hospital? I had to have my chin stitched up when I was like, 3. And also I had my tonsils out at 10.
22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Nope, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.
23. Have you ever met any celebrities? I met Paramore the summer before my junior year, and I met Jensen, Jared, and Misha from SPN my senior year!
24. Baths or showers? Showers.
25. What color socks are you wearing? au naturale i’m barefoot bitches
26. Have you ever been famous? one time i did a drawing and it got 100 notes
27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? noooooo maybe C-list at most
28. What type of music do you like? I’ll listen to just about anything, but I lean towards alt rock, metal, punk, some indie if it isn’t too hippie-ish.
29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? nah
30. How many pillows do you sleep with? Like...7?
31. What position do you usually sleep in? On my stomach with my top half wrapped around a pillow or a blanket.
32. How big is your house? Two-story, four bedrooms. Parents raised three wild kiddos here
33. What do you typically have for breakfast? A smoothie or a sandwich when I’m actually up in time.
34. Have you ever fired a gun? No, but I’d like to at least try.
35. Have you ever tried archery? yes and i ain’t no katniss
36. Favorite clean word? Maverick (that’s one of many)
37. Favorite swear word? Fuck. it’s just so versatile
38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 60 hours or so
39. Do you have any scars? On my heels, chin, thighs, hips, and over my wristbones. I’m clumsy, have pets, and have self-harmed.
40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? An anon flirted w me on Tumblr but it was someone in my French class, lel. Wasn’t a secret for too long.
41. Are you a good liar? White lies, yes. Big lies, noooo.
42. Are you a good judge of character? Generally?
43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? Not a whole lot on my own, but I’ll pick up anything I hear regularly.
44. Do you have a strong accent? Not really? I just kinda talk and drop bits of different accents here and there. I don’t think I have that much of a St. Louis accent.
45. What is your favorite accent? I have a soft spot for slight Southern accents. Eastern European and Australian are also awesome.
46. What is your personality type? sad
47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? A $120 jacket from Zumiez. It’s HUF brand but I bought it for the wolves on it tbh
48. Can you curl your tongue? Yes and it comes in handy w girlfriends
49. Are you an innie or an outie? Innie
50. Left or right handed? Right
51. Are you scared of spiders? I used to, but I’m getting better. They startle me but I’ve carried a wolf spider outside so
52. Favorite food? changes by the hour tbh tho chicken is always good
53. Favorite foreign food? Shepherd’s Pie.
54. Are you a clean or messy person? Clean, but disorganized. My room is cluttered but not like, dirty.
55. Most used phrase? "Oh my god.”
56. Most used word? like
57. How long does it take for you to get ready? depends. not usually over 45 minutes unless I’m getting Fancy.
58. Do you have much of an ego? Not really.
59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Yes.
60. Do you talk to yourself? More than anyone else.
61. Do you sing to yourself? Yes, especially when I can’t hear my own voice.
62. Are you a good singer? N o
63. Biggest Fear? Forgetting and being forgotten.
64. Are you a gossip? drama that don’t involve me is the best drama
65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? Goodwill Hunting aaaaaa
66. Do you like long or short hair? On myself, defs long. I love pulling it back too much for short.
67. Can you name all 50 states of America? Yep! I
68. Favorite school subject? English. Also psychology.
69. Extrovert or Introvert? Extrovert with trust issues, abandonment issues, and that shuts down a lot. and also clinical depression
70. Have you ever been scuba diving? No, but I’ve been snorkeling!
71. What makes you nervous? Anything has the potential to make me nervous, tbh. But not knowing things is The Worst
72. Are you scared of the dark? Oh god yes
73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? I do when it’s something small. Big mistakes are things you gotta figure out for yourself.
74. Are you ticklish? Less and less over time, tbh.
75. Have you ever started a rumor? Never on purpose. I’ve heard a few things I’ve said get distorted and spread but I try to Cut That Shit Out Quick
76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? I was a President of a few clubs in high school, captain of the swim team, and a manager for the track and cross country teams.
77. Have you ever drank underage? Whenever I can, tbh. Not even to get drunk, necessarily, it just tastes good
78. Have you ever done drugs? Only weed with a close friendo of mine. I also may have saved a few narcotics from my wisdom tooth removal for a rainy day
79. Who was your first real crush? My best friend in middle school. That was a doozy.
80. How many piercings do you have? I have doubles in my ears, so 4. I’d like triples and possibly a septum piercing.
81. Can you roll your Rs? Yep! Sometimes I do it by accident when speaking
82. How fast can you type? Not very tbh
83. How fast can you run? That depends on why I’m running.
84. What color is your hair? Dirty blonde.
85. What color are your eyes? Blue-gray.
86. What are you allergic to? Certain kinds of deodorant and also tumblr
87. Do you keep a journal? I mean I scribble down stream of consciousness shit when trying to Cope w things, but I don’t keep one regularly.
88. What do your parents do? Dad’s an engineer, mom’s the HR person for a whackass ad company w fun people
89. Do you like your age? I mean I’d rather be able to legally drink, but I’m a legal adult but it doesn’t feel Real yet so I guess it ain’t all bad
90. What makes you angry? When people are mean for literally no good reason.
91. Do you like your own name? it’s aiight. people trying to pronounce my last name is amusing
92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? I like the name Oliver a lot for a guy? But really I guess it’d depend on my what my wife likes
93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? dog
94. What are your strengths? I know people and can communicate pretty well, and I’m generally good at being pretty friendly. Also I can swim so if someone throws me in the water the joke is on them
95. What are your weaknesses? Can’t be left alone for long periods of time, relying on one person for everything, and ignoring myself and other friends, compulsive tendencies, and an overall obsessive personality.
96. How did you get your name? Named after my dad’s grandma, iirc. Except Claire instead of Clara.
97. Were your ancestors royalty? I’m sure someone was idk
98. Do you have any scars? didn’t I answer this already
99. Color of your bedspread? Black and white at home, orange and purple in my dorm.
100. Color of your room? Very dark forest green. I like it lots.
If you’ve seen more than one non-musical Les Mis movie in English (whether it’s American OR British), you might have noticed that sometimes they’re eerily similar to each other. I’m talking about the 1935, 1952, 1978 and 1998 movies, as seen above.
I honestly think these are all at least somewhat based on each other. They all follow the same rough structure, they share suspiciously specific details… it’s not really hard to make the connections. So I figured I’d try to put that structure into words.
Disclaimer: I’m not necessarily saying these are all bad things. (Although most of them are.) They’re just shared features and I get that plot needs to be streamlined when you adapt a giant novel into a movie. But it’s amusing to make fun of them. Also I only included the ones that show up in at least three of the movies.
BASIC STRUCTURE:
1: This is the story of Jean Valjean and Inspector Javert, everybody else is mostly just there to drive the plot forward.
2: Prison porn, lots of prison porn Okay okay not literal porn but you know what I mean. (exception: ‘98)
3: Fantine? Who’s that? Oh right Cosette’s mom. I guess we should give her a couple of scenes then… (exception: in '98 Fantine gets an actual story arc.)
4: We should really linger on this Montreuil-sur-Mer part of the plot, that’s the good stuff (but we can’t call the town “Montreuil-sur-Mer”, that would be ridiculous.)
5: The Thénardiers can only appear once, when Valjean goes to pick up Cosette, or not at all. Who needs all those plot points later on, this story is about the EPIC CHASE between Valjean and Javert!
6: You can have either Gavroche or adult Éponine but never both and they’re not related to the Thénardiers because we’re done with the Thénardiers already, didn’t I just tell you? Child Éponine may be allowed with the Thénardiers but she’s never named and has no lines.
7: Wow, Hugo really went off the plot rails after they arrive in Paris, didn’t he? There’s barely anything about Javert hunting Valjean in here! Let’s fix that and remove all this irrelevant stuff about all these side characters. We’ll just keep the love story because you gotta have a love story
8: I guess the revolution thing is kind of cool as a set piece for Valjean and Javert’s DRAMATIC REUNION. But we don’t really need to explain the politics and ideology and the fighting and all the minor character stuff, all that has nothing to do with Valjean and Javert!
9: Oh wait I guess we should still kill off whichever not!Thénardier kid we decided to include, though, for Dramatic Effect and to show how Tragic and Horrible revolutions are. (Exception: in ‘52 Gavroche doesn’t die)
10: Obviously Javert should go to the barricades to find Valjean, that’s much more important to him than “spying on the revolutionaries” lol (exception: '78)
11: Sewer chase scene! Yes, finally we’re back to the REAL story of Les Mis! Javert chasing Valjean in the sewers!
12: Well, Javert is dead so I guess we’re done now. VALJEAN WON! WHOO! HAPPY ENDING!
(more details under the cut)
CHARACTERIZATION:
- Javert is obsessed with Valjean! That’s what his whole character is ABOUT, you know?
- Okay we can’t give Valjean a proper love interest but he should at least fall in love with someone. Too bad there’s only two women to choose from so it HAS to be either Fantine or Cosette! (exception: '78 (because that one just fully embraces the homoerotic subtext option… and I’m pretty sure it’s intentional.))
- Cosette should actually get to do some stuff and find out about Valjean’s past DURING the story rather than after it’s over (exception: '78)
^ (Ftr, I have no problem with the above point. I’m all for Cosette having more agency. Not all changes are bad.)
- Does this Marius guy really need all this backstory and hobbies and personality and whatever? He’s basically just Cosette’s love interest. This is all way too complicated for movie audiences, I mean is he even a revolutionary or not? We can’t tell! We should just fuse him with the Enjolras character to kill two bird with one stone. This makes perfect sense. (’78 doesn’t have him fused with Enjolras and does have at least a hint of a backstory but otherwise this still applies.)
MISCELLANEOUS:
- All these French names are so weird and hard to remember. What was the Bishop’s sister’s name again? Actually never mind, I’ll just come up with something that sounds French. Also “Monsieur Madeleine” sounds stupid, let’s just not use his name at all, it’s not like anybody will notice. And Montreuil-sur-Mer is too hard to pronounce, let’s just change the name or awkwardly avoid saying it.
(”Hey guys, what’s the name of this town where we live?” “The Town, obviously.” “What’s our mayor called again?” “He’s called The Mayor.”)
- How many years did Valjean and Cosette spend at the convent? Nah, it’s too much trouble to look it up. Let’s just say ten. (What year even is this? Which uprising? Who’s the king we’re talking about here? HOW old is Cosette again? WE JUST CAN’T KNOW.)
- Historical accuracy, what historical accuracy? (THERE SURE ARE A LOT OF TRICOLOR FLAGS IN BOURBON RESTORATION FRANCE. Also What The Hell Are You Wearing Cosette. Valjean are those culottes? Is that a pilgrim hat?? What era IS this? Did you just raid the studio’s costume storage for whatever vaguely old-fashioned clothes you could find? Actually that’s totally what you did, wasn’t it?)
- Valjean needs to be hot and shouldn’t age too much during the movie. I mean we don’t really even know how time works so why should he age anyway? Okay fine, ‘78!Valjean, you get a grey wig and a beard.
- Cosette first sees Marius
'35: when he’s giving a speech which is interrupted by guards
'52: when he’s running away from guards after giving a speech
'78: when he’s with Enjolras who is giving a speech which is interrupted by guards and spied on by Javert
'98: when he’s giving a speech which is spied on by Javert
- Valjean takes the wounded Marius to Cosette rather than to Gillenormand (exception: ‘78 where it’s never shown where he takes Marius)
I think there are also some similarities in editing and blocking and cinematography but it would get really technical if I tried to explain them and I’m not even sure I know enough about the subject to really talk about it. Also there are a bunch of really mundane similarities that I didn’t think were worth mentioning (like the glass walls thing).
I didn’t include the 1917 silent film because I haven’t seen it. I don’t know if it fits this pattern.
Anyway, feel free to add things!
EDIT: Okay something I left out earlier but should be pointed out is the focus on ~*~Redemption~*~ that these movies have. (With the exception of ‘52.) And ‘78 especially does this what with Valjean actually escaping from prison rather than being released and then he just flat out assaults a guy and we never even see if the guy lives. So suddenly the focus is on Valjean being a sinner, rather than on him having been wronged by society.
‘35 does this in another way, having Valjean actually consider killing Javert at the barricades. ‘98 does it by having Valjean be a huge dick. I mean I think that’s what that was about anyway.
Everything that used to trigger me via /r/selfimprovement
Everything that used to trigger me
gap year clean up operation
by topic 1) family 2) internet 3) habits 4) education 5) music 6) relationships 7) sex 8) ambitions 9a) people being triggered by me 9b) people liking me (both + takeaways) 10) exam failure from 'narcissism' 11) my happiness 12) happiness in relationships 13) self sabotage/not reaching full potential 14) peak culture 15) mania/bipolar 16) attitudes against mainstream/dissatisfaction 17) trolling 18) lack of pride in myself or friends 19) being an alpha male 😈 20) dysfunctional behaviour 21) fake false flags to reinforce a victim mentality
1) family trigger points . My mum plays jazz fm loudly in the kitchen. shes insensitive to my desire to practice the piano in peace in an environment that facilitates my development. My dad hates me. My brother hates me. I had a sexual relationship with a boy who was the son of a family friend at 14 and his mum found out by walking in and told my mum. She loves me yet as Christians she's appaled as is my father who is a priest. I feel too ashamed of my sexuality and having sex which negatively impacts my life. My mother is a lovely personality but is stressed and anxious. My father ditto, I find him ignorant, he can't communicate or manage interpersonal relationships. His disjointed mannerisms derive from social anxiety. In my mothers view, the family is ruined because of my younger brother. He'd always run around the house disinhibited, and come onto my mother, strangers, etc (he's autistic so doesn't understand). Obviously the family is fucked beyond repair. My parents only mission in life is posting shit on Facebook as would be activists for a free Russia or some bs. Most of their friends are online, they have low functioning lifestyles, don't understand love and see the world through a 100% academic worldview. None of my acheivements were ever good enough for them, etc
2) im an addict more or less. my desire to use twitter originated in pay per click advertising. i was broke i got followers etc also i was mad at 'clout' people then i went to some events in canary wharf reinvented the operation as real estate based in the city from a virtual adress it functioned perfectly got retreats from battersea city council, other quite well respected accounts found it fascinating how it was taken seriously went a bit far starting using the medium to solely communicate with a network and reason with them while triggering everyone else with no immunity. the inspiration was my inner child whom by all accounts was quite egotistical then use ig for girls and friends i guess ig would trigger me because the clout is fake linkedin for visualisation tbh i got caught up and it started accumulating power etc used fb for piano tuition fucking triggered by fb, useless imo . 3) habits awful bad diet, water, no gym, sports no piano no part time job no relationships not seeing anyone just addicted to online . 4) triggered by being educated as it was outside my model bathed in ignorance disputed with maths and french and music and piano . 5) i want the coolest most developed chords i dont even care for the expression spontaneity creativity i just want the most edgy/advanced chords i don't even reason out part writing or experience inherent joy from it . 6) dysfunctional anxiety ridden ignorant non sexual not transparent no social events no shared values no mutuals . 7) ashamed as said im gay? perhaps pansexual no clue im not attracted to girls it feels forced im gay i admit it logistically hard parents might cut off if they found out . 8) ridiculously huge delusional not funded by enough money weak networking . 9a) Yasmin girls all classes sixth form exam boards teachers . 9b) yomi sees potential and feels contrived sympsthy for me same with mutazz both dont truly know me but love for them etc ditto w al dhillon knows nothing about me no friends know anything about me, I'm a loner by choice to protect myself . 10) couldn't deal with being in the same room as people i thought were less then me was angry took out on exams lol . 11) no clue how to be happy love? . 12) non existent no clue
13) im gay so thats a start haha self sabotage my public portrayal amongst close friends Sabotage my own education bipolar/mania lol Sabotage my musical expression Sabotage my popularity (for being woke?) lol annoyed at fake insta clout annoyed at how friends like sam saw me as an outsider instead of the other way round lol eh nah take that back different cliques much love . 14) i listen to crap instead of 'high culture' such as Beethoven symphonies idk my piano repetoire
15) legit manic episodes bipolar i consultation indefinitely . 16) im a legend in terms of my perception yet im embarrassed I'm not confident i dont follow through a gap year basically failure to aaa probably Warwick mfl when i could have been Oxbridge (with hard sincere work) eh . but then again It is all about me the self styled maverick Benedict gets the mission a shit uni would be a troll gp shit/aaa/ Russell g/ucl i mean it would look better but interpersonal perception and communication are so manipulated i could probably make an Oxford degree on ms Paint and pass it off or be the bossman of rcm or Warwick mfl/adjustment I guess lol like e corp guy im the most powerful guy in the room but i fucked it bc hussey has superior expertise and i kinda need to be subservient to the exam boards loool whoops . * Im too strong willed pass off as bipolar a*aa hope for the best through adjustment keep interpersonal communication doctrine calm af . 17) i have trolled before it was nasty but im past that perhaps some light sarcasm thats all kindness love . be honest about my mischief it can't be made up so will get away with it . 18) not good have pride in al yomi mutazz everyone so far in my life endless relationships andthe future . 19) loool i don't buy that shit . i believe were the sum of our choices nothing is definitive only the present moment defines us in my opinion so failure in the past generally speaking is irrelevant never judge
20) not working etc doing the work for a*aa bc the perfectly valid reasoning was being rejected by me as it fell outside my model . 21) yeah i make excuses not to be accepted and respected as expected (flourish) because i like being the victim .
Submitted September 18, 2018 at 12:57AM by dopamineway
via reddit https://ift.tt/2pdkCYu
I had met Nell in my sophomore year of college. We both were taking French together, and like any person exposed to a new language, we didn’t talk much.
“Bonjour, ça va?”
As a Music student, I perceived him as kept, low-speaking, the kind of shy that resonates. As a sign of understanding, I had become comfortable with greeting him throughout half-executed smirks. On my third year of college, as I walked in into my Performance Studies class, there he was in a corner, with his guitar next to him, silent. As I sat down next to him, he was surprised to see a familiar face, the true joys of the first weeks of college.
Not having a foreign language to silence my voice, discussing Performance matters was a true joy of mine. After class, he reaches out as I packed my things: “I had no idea that you talked in class”. Surprised by his observation I replied: “I don’t have to deliver my thoughts in French.”
“Touché. Well, you really go for it” he said jokingly and walked away.
Nell was one more of those college people that you occasionally ran into and didn’t feel like putting your headphones on and walking away.
When you’re in fourth year of college everything seems to abruptly come into a fast end, and all you can do is sit down, breath and slow down time. Sitting in my usual corner of cigarette friendly and dream failure street, right in front of the theatre, Nell passed by, and as usual, I smiled and unconsciously waved from a far; the kind of wave you only see in train stations. To my surprise he stopped, stood still, and approached me.
“Hey!” I said in my usual cheer up I’m not dying inside one octave too high pitch.
“Hello. You know, every time that I see you I think about coming over to say hello but I never get around it. Damn shyness.”
“Oh, I understand. But, hey, next time, don’t think twice about it.”
“Maybe I should have your contact.”
Taken by surprise, I was about to take out my note pad and write down my number, it’s not everyday in 2018 that a person asks for your phone number. As I reached in my bag, he handed me his phone. Of course, just save it. As I focused on the screen, there it was, the blue eyed monster: Facebook. A friend request: just impersonal enough to add people, just personal enough to message them at 1 a.m. I looked my self up, added myself, said my goodbyes and left.
It wasn’t long until I got messages about the weather, about college and about our free time. Consecutively, I had postpone meeting up to “have a talk”, until one day, when I received a message from him being near by. I was already formulating plausible conversation topics: start with jazz, follow it up with Performance and maybe discuss that one Judith Butler text we had read in class.
Meeting up seemed rather tense and it felt like I was interviewing him for a prestigious position. Soon enough Nell started talking about his bachelor, when he finished his monologue, the only question I had was “if I wanted to come hear some of his stuff at his apartment”. I didn’t want to be a part of a bad 90s coming of age scene, but in hopes of being in college, I agreed.
His apartment seemed familiar, going up the stairs my brain connected the time and place, I was reentering Mr. J’s building. Do all musicians gathered around in sessions? Nell and I sat by his balcony, he lit on a candle and started to play songs.
“I bought this candle on my way to check-out in Marshall’s, it had the word Zen on it, so I thought it was a good idea.”
“Yes, it is a world known fact that candles that have the word Zen on it will indeed bring you to that state of mind.” He nodded and and placed it down. I started to think that maybe I had to work on my delivery time, my punch line wasn’t quite the knock out. Between a few fags and a couple of songs, it started to rain. He took out his guitar and started to play a tune that he declared “too emotional”. Thing is, every Chet Baker song is too emotional, My Funny Valentine, wasn’t the exception. After he was done playing, he said the words that I dread the most:
“So...”
“So...”
“Listen, I know I’m quiet, and recently, after this hurricane, I’ve realized that I should speak up more or life just keeps passing by. I am attracted to you and I wanted to know if you were too.” It seems that until this point my gut had figured him out but my hopes had suppressed the thought of it. I genuinely replied:
“I hadn’t really given it thought. I just knew you from class, and because of how you were, I would say hello whenever I’d see you. And then I ran into you the other day...”
“I sensed flirtation, am I wrong?”
“Well, you’re not wrong, but it wasn’t intended.” Suddenly his roommate walked in and Nell asked me to go in his room so we could talk in private and keep smoking. As I stood up and walked into his room, I could feel that returning home was going to be a nightmare.
I sat on a chair that was on the opposite side of the room from where his bed was placed. I lit up a cigarette and he continued his confession.
“There’s something else I want to tell you.”
Sex.
He flicked his cigarette and continued: “ I want you to know that I’m open to any physical interaction; of any kind. If you want to, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Oh.”
I started to panic as I always tend to do in these situations, but instead, I took a deep breath and tried to gather my thoughts. We live in a beautiful time where the Sexual Revolution had given us the freedom to be unapologetically open with our sexuality. It had also given a person like me nothing but shame. Shame on not being able to feel as open; to be as open. I realized that I would be eternally doomed to feel ashamed and guilty of turning down people that were just living out their sexual lives. I felt guilty of not being able to respond to their attempts, their wasted time on suggesting sex. I looked around his room, his bed, and then asked myself if I was finally going to do it. I tried to picture the moment and if I’d be glad to keep that as my first sexual debut memory. I looked at him and decided to be as open and unapologetic as he had been, I owed it to the Sexual Revolution:
“Listen, I want to thank you for considering me as a sexual partner and for taking time to ask me. Sadly, this is the part where usually other people feel uncomfortable. I can’t have sex without an emotional connection. I wish I was as free as everyone around here, I find it beautiful. But I can’t do this.”
“I don’t want you to feel bad. I just thought that you felt the same way. The way you were and the way you smiled and talked. I thought you wanted it too. Can I ask, are you attracted to me?” I was perplexed of how someone could ignore my boldest moment in sexual history to wonder about their appearance; people are just people.
“I didn’t do it intentionally. Listen, I smiled at you and I talked to you because you seemed like the type of person I could relate to. You always sat in a corner with your guitar and hardly ever talked. I understand that, I see that. You stood out from the room, I guess I found it endearing. I thought you saw me too, but I guess that’s just me. I’m looking for that one person that understands me, I’m not only looking for sex, that secondary to me. But I understand your position and I thank you for considering me and asking so honestly.”
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were like that. You see, I feel too. This is not the only thing that I want. Listening to you say this to me, it makes me feel.”
Suddenly, he began to cry. I always pictured the moment I’d be in someone’s bedroom alone and all I could hear was their cry, I just didn’t think it was over a conversation about how I can’t have sex with them. It takes one special socially inept person to make a guy cry in his room after denying sex. I just couldn’t help but look at him and wonder if one could be so moved or one could move oneself to get what they want.
“Have you always had this beautiful way of feeling?” Nell asked. I felt a sudden wave of sadness thinking about how lost I will be in life with my way of loving. Didn’t everybody wanted to love this way? When did love become irrelevant?
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me again what you thought of me?” Perplexed, I repeated what I had just told him: “ And know you can keep it in your memory of compliments.” I finished, trying to cheer up the mood. My timing was killer. He just stared at me, and after a while of uncomfortable silence and looking away and then at the celling, he said:
“We could try this.”
Sex.
“I’m sorry, but the only thing I’m thinking about if the fact of you wanting to have sex and bringing in later the proposal of dating doesn’t make sense to me at the moment. I’m okay with being friends. It’s fine. I’m ok. We’re cool.”
“You do it the right way.”
“There is no right way, this is just my way.”
“Feeling is beautiful.”
“So is euphoria, but I can’t give you that right now.”
Despite my final attempts he just stared back. I decided to go back to campus and say goodbye. He decided to walk me there and apologized all the way back. After I “accepted his apologies” and said goodbye, I told him how much I liked the flowers he had in his room.
“Yes, they’re the only pretty thing I have in my room.”
I had never felt more alone than after I found myself sitting again in front of the theatre. I had never felt more alone in my head, with my thoughts and my longings. How long will I be this way? Will I always be this way? Am I right in being this way? Will I ever get what I want? Is what I want real? I saw Salvatore kissing Elena for the first time. I heard the melody to Something Stupid. I remembered Sonnet 18. Wanting to be free was the purest and most beautiful act a human can try to be. There was beauty in euphoria, but all I wanted were the flowers in his room that afternoon. Just like sex, love will never be irrelevant to me.
I wrote this once on my phone just before we lost our passports and the panic attacked and I forgot to save it so here am I writing this again.
I am in the airport, about to fly back to Singapore. We have ended our first long trip together.
We have never stopped moving for the past 3 weeks. We walked everyday for at least 6-7 km, taking any walk that google map suggests as below 30mins. In the last unexpected days in Paris, it went up to a lot of 1hour walks because we were just fed up with the crowded and fifthy metros, as well as the nerve cracking mentility we had every time we get on it, worrying that some pickpocketing might happen again- although we had had almost nothing left to be stolen. The walking is partially because we don't drive but also because we see so much more when we walk. Plus, I just enjoyed walking with Anh, we never ran out of things to talk about.
One day we walked up to 20km, hiking up to a waterfall in a small town on the other side of the lake from Annecy. Next day, we cycled another 20km around that lake.
The craziest hike was from Odda to Trolltunga, up to 1100m attitude, 11km up, 12km down on the next day. 1km extra because I hurt my knee and couldn't take the stiff slope down. We came ill prepared. Not enough warm clothes and water proof materials for our backpacks. It was raining on and off all day on the day we went up. Everything was wet as soon as we reached the iconic 'touge'. Anh fell down several times, some were funny to watch, some just made my heart literally skip a beat. I saw snow for the first time but it's just too cold for me to be excited about it. Cold, slippery, exhausted. We camped overnight on the top. It's scary... but the view was just so breaktaking that we almost forgot how scary it was to hike under the rain in clothes that are suitable for just a lovely sunny day. The most surreal moment was when the fog gradually went away and the sun shone on the rocky side of the mountain. It's lit up, shimmering.. I told Anh it made me almost believe in God.
Next day we went down it was the most beautiful sunny day I've ever had. Never before have I so yearn for the sun. I took a fall on the way down, hurt my butt and bruise my arm badly. I think the bruise is just making me look tougher, or making people look at Anh subspiously, thinking there is some kind of domestic abuse going on between us.
We talked to Howard- an ex military man and Maika- a professional trainer for outdoor activities and outdoor living - they are two guides leading us up and down the mountain. They are just super human to us. When asked what the highest mountain she has ever climbed, Maika said it's not the highest one that is the toughest, it's the longest one. Hers was a 15day hike continuously, carrying her own clothes and food supplies for the whole journey (for this tour, they carried food, tents and sleeping bags up for us, we only carried our clothes and essentials yet at the 4th or 5th kilometer, and already it felt like rock on my back).
People in Norway also speak fluently several languages. Even the girl serves at our hostel restaurant speak fluently 5 languages and is learning another 2. When she spoke to Lucille- a French friend we made staying in the same hostel room in Odda, Lucille said she has perfect french. How amazing is that?
We came to realise how physically weak we are compared to people from else where in the world and there are so much more, so many things for us to learn in this life. It motivates me to learn Chinese now as I'm back.. I'm just not sure how long the motivation would last until I need another trip for motivation :P
Being on top of Trollunga is one of the proudest things I've ever done and I'm sure Anh feels the same. Definitely best moment of this year and most of all I've got to share it with Anh.
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I had a mix feeling toward Paris. I'm not going to defense Paris from Anh anymore about how filthy, messy and choastic it is and how rude people are in Paris. Sorry French friends, there always are nice people and rude people anywhere I know that for a fact, but we tried our best talking to people as much as we want to get to know the place and its people. We just didn't get much friendly response, not to mention the increasing crimes in the city. The police just gets used to thef and pickpocketing reports. One policewoman even talked to us as if putting my wallet inside my backpack and had it stolen is entirely and obviously my fault.
However, Paris is still charming to me in a way, put aside all those bad experiences. We didn't have anyone else apart from each other to talk to when we were there- maybe that's one of the reason why Paris is less exciting. But we found our way to entertain ourselves. I went to a jazz club and danced it off with Anh for the first time. Believe it or not, 6 years together and I've never been to a club with Anh before. Yet suddenly with jazz, the modern, trendy dance moves became irrelevant. They played in the basement built with bricks walls, low ceiling and not every spacious. The lead saxophone stopped at the end of each song to introduce the name of the next sone with a short description. I like the way he did that- reminds me of the scene in La la land where Seb told Mia that people don't understand jazz because they never really listen to it. Jazz always just music in the background in restaurants or some gatherings. So the way the lead saxophone introduced each song made me feel like each song is beautiful and they mean it everytime they play it, that people actually care, that they were there for the music itself- not something jazzy in the background. We danced to two or three songs, crazy moves. We were the worst dancers.. but who cares haha. The rest of the time we watched people dance. Night fell and we walked a little bit to North Dame, sat in front for a while then went home. It was Anh's birthday that night. It was a successful birthday: we had good Pho, listened to live jazz and walked the city of Paris with endless talking. I was deeply thankful to whoever has the power to arrange for people to meet each other because I met Anh and we stay together, and tomorrow wouldn't be boring even though I had no idea what we were going to do the next day. I knew with Anh we would have fun..
Paris is all about art- that's what people say. Of course we had our own art experience too. We went by the Lourve and saw people ridiculously queued up for, I guess, a kilometer long under the sun just to come in and see the tiny Mona Lisa. I wonder how many of them actually understand those artworks in there. We came back here later after we lost our passports and stuck in Paris. The queue was better and Anh asked if I wanted to come inside for once, since we were already there. But I looked it up online and their paintings are from the renaissaince period- which I'm not very much interested in.. so we didn't come in. Instead, Musee de Orsay just made my dream come true. Monet. Van Gogh. Manet. Renoid. Camille. Gauguin. Bonnard. Even Picasso before he drew abstract and cubism. All of them in one place. I remember finding their paintings when I was a kid looking through dad's magazine cutouts; when I was in school daydreaming on tumblr during school lessons; when I was in my darkest days. And they were just real in front of my eyes. I could see the strokes that they made, how big the paintings are (poor Van Gogh he got the smallest paintings which made my heart sank), how different it is to look closely and look from distance. I could smell the oil paint in the rooms which I think just another trick the museum does to stimulate experience; yet it really got me. I discovered new artists I never heard of before but I love their paintings in there. Anh hadn't really been into art.. but he accompanied me to these place anyway. I love it when he said he loved Monet's the Water lily bond and the House of Parliment London; love that he cared about what I like.
Nexy day we went to the Centre Pompiduo. This was where it channelled Anh's inner 9gag boy. We debated for a good hour on whether modern art is really art or just people's way of bullshiting their socalled arts. It was a good talk yet I still couldn't turn him around- at least we shared. We were just hanging around in the campus and watching this performance artist sweeping yellow paddy rice. His exagerating movements made it feel like he was dancing. The way I saw it is that he was making those stroke on the black floor using his random movements and create quiet interesting texture on the floor. After awhile there was another girl came in to continue doing that for him. Anh just hated it, he said they are pretendious and exagerating shit to make it look artistic but it has no meaning. We had another good talk over that until we were hungry and left. That's the only reason he could convince me out of some place I got hooked to. I regreted not coming into the exhibitions. Maybe some good, thought-provoking, meaningful masterpieces in there could convince Anh for me without saying a word.
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Castellane is soooo lovely. Perfect weather. Sunny but not so burning. We were staying at a BnB not far from the town centre with Leo and Petra. They are the loveliest couple I've ever met hands down. We had long chats with them every morning during our breakfast about so many things- like me and Petra trying to convince Anh to believe in real modern art.
One morning Petra rushed to our room calling our names, asking if we want to see a troop of thousand sheeps, donkeys and mountain goats on their journey up to the mountain. We ran to the road, stood by, waiting for them. There were literally thousand of them! 1060 to be exact. They each had a bell on their necks and the whole troop make an oschetra when they walk. It's just amazing.. I've never seen so many sheeps before, nor the way farmers do their work. Petra let us know that they travel up to the higher alpes in the summer for greener grass when it gets too hot and grass on flat land turns brown. We tried to talk to some of the farmers and felt so heartwarming that although their english is really limited, as much as our french, they tried to tell us about their journey. (See Parisians.. they are just farmers and they speak english to us). Up until we met there, they have walked 12km in 10 days. We walked with them for a while then left for out water trekking trip.
The water trekking trip almost scared the shit out of us. Gorge de Verdon is so beautiful, so so beautiful, even better seeing from below, just above the water. The water was so fast and strong, it's scary at the same time. We were floating, letting our bodies go with the water flow. There are times I thought my head would hit a big rock. The route also includes some jumping off a high rock onto the water. And I think I would never forget the feeling I had in the moment after I just throw myself in the air and before my body touches water. It's indescriptable.
Next morning we felt like seeing the animals again so we went for a hike up, tracing after their poops- yes they poop a lot along the way. But then we lost track, couldn't find them and end up at the lake. I made Anh do some kayaking. While stopping for our lunch, still on the boat, a spider appeared and Anh freaked out- no suprise for me. After we managed to turn away from the burst, the spider out of sight, he said he really wanted to jump down into the water. Apparently he couldn't. He was halfway finishing his bread with pate filling, couldn't risk wasting the food. Yep, that's my boyfriend.
Not until were we in Castellane that we had a full course real french dinner. The first dinner was delicious! Just like the restaurant's name: Ô Delicion.. we were the first to be there. The French usually have late dinner, around 8 I guess. We usually get hungry around 6 and always need to wait until 7 when the shops are open. I had terrine for appetiter, Anh had artichoke soup. The soup was really nice and I kept thinking about how beautifully shaped the artichoke is before it's cooked- just a random thought. My main course was devine, tenderly cooked port chop with a kind of mushroom that I had never had before. It went with 2 sides: fish egg and some kind of baked egg with vegetable. Anh was jealous of my main dish because he only had average fish with the same sides for himself. The French are really great at cooking. Even the Vietnamese food is better in French than in anywhere else we've been to. I told Anh to stop comparing them to the British because it's such an insult- do the British really cook anything good?
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Almost 2 weeks since I'm back. Finally got my sound sleep back last night. I've always been exhausted. So many things to catch up and so many plans to be done. Tonight Ellen didn't take the train home with me, chi G didn't join me for dinner. I have the evening for myself.
I feel sad about not having Anh beside me. I remember feeling we were so strong and we could be anything when we were together. Now we are apart- he couldn't fix my computer and I couldn't attend his graduation. Maybe I just miss anh.
I think of the good time we had when we were on the trip.
Reading the news about Dear Vincent movie remind me of Annecy- a lovely town down south France. I regret we had time but didn't try to ask around if the movie was being screened there because I knew its premier screen had just ended a week before we arrived. Now I need to wait until they screen it in Singapore which would take forever... not many people interested in such movie I suppose.
When we were in Annecy it were the sunniest days of the trip. We fell right in love with the airbnb we stayed in as soon as we arrived. Cecile- our host showed us around with phone in her hand, a translate apps open ready. The house is isolated from the touristy madness outside in the market. There is a lovely garden leading to an openning where you can go down to the river running across the town. We spent afternoons sitting there, seeing people above the bridge, waiting for the ducks and swans to swim by and feed them. Anh totally loved that activity, best with an ice cream in hand (ice cream is for him not the ducks).
Talk Islam / OPN - Is Music Really Haram? The Sad Reality of Today's Music.
..May Allah help us all...
Is Music Really Haram?
It’s the question almost everyone wants to argue about and the debate that never seems to end.
And before you drop the “Haram Police” card and get ready to prepare an essay response in the comments, can I just say that I’m not here to argue the different rulings and opinions on musical instruments, singing, beat boxing, drums and what not. I’m not even going to go there.
I’m going to be doing something different.
I want us to answer this question for ourselves, openly and honestly. In fact, we can even forget I even said the word Haram to begin with.
Let’s instead just ask the question “Is Music harmful?”
And when we say music, I’m going to be very blank, I’m referring to the music that the majority of people are listening to today because that’s what we should be concerned about. The music that’s on our radios, TV’s, phones and iTunes playlists on repeat. The songs that are topping the charts week-in-week-out and have us memorizing their lyrics from A-Z. This is the music I’m referring to.
Should we, as Muslims be fine listening to this stuff?
Well, let’s take a look for yourselves and decide.
The Hot 100 Billboard Charts has these songs topping the charts for the current week.
Despacito:
Luis Fonsi & Daddy Yankee Featuring Justin Bieber
“You fit me tailor-made, love how you put it on
Got the only key, know how to turn it on”
Wild Thoughts:
DJ Khaled, Rhianna, Bryson Teller
“I don’t know if you could take it
Know you wanna see me nakey, nakey, naked”
That’s what I like:
Bruno Mars
“Go pop it for a player, pop-pop it for me
Turn around and drop it for a player, drop-drop it for me”
I’m the One:
DJ Khaled, Justin Bieber, Lil Wayne, Quavo
“Roll my eyes
And when she on the molly she a zombie”
Unforgettable:
French Montanna
“If you loved the girl then I’m so, so sorry
I got to give it to her like we in a marriage
No, no I won’t tell nobody”
“If you want drama, Grab the Uzi”.
A quick Google search of the lyrics of these songs will let you know exactly the kinds of messages they contain. You honestly don’t have to read far until you come across references to drugs, sexual promiscuity, violence or alcohol. Even when lyrics can seem somewhat innocent, they are underlined with the most vulgar and shameless of meanings. And the saddest part of it all, there’s even some Muslims actually making these songs.
And yes, I’m sure we can argue all day that not all songs are this bad and there are some “good songs” out there, but the fact of the matter is the statistics speak for themselves when they mention that the vast majority of today’s music is riddled with such references and as the day’s go by content is only getting worse.
And as I’ve mentioned before, I’m not here to argue the Islamic rulings on instruments and the various opinions of scholars on music, because, in all honesty, these opinions are irrelevant when we consider them in light of the music being listened to today. I mean, do you seriously want to argue the permissibility of instruments when Muslims are listening to Nicki Minaj?
And we can go ahead and argue that we’re strong and that the music isn’t necessarily influencing us, but the fact of the matter is – it does. And whether you realize it or not, when you constantly grant such music free access to your ears, it is affecting you. It’s normalizing the worst of sins to the point we can sing about them happily and joyfully.
And if you were so sure that the things you listen to won’t affect your life, why not switch up a music playlist with some Quran and see what change it would have in your life. Even if you don’t understand a word being recited, just listen to it and see what kind of impact it will leave on your soul. There’s no denying that our ears are gateways into our hearts and we should be very careful who we allow access to.
And lastly, I know we all have shortcomings and weaknesses, and I know not all of us are the perfect ideal Muslims – but the least we can do is acknowledge that it’s wrong so that perhaps we can start making an effort to change.
May Allah help us all.
Talk Islam / OPN - Is Music Really Haram? The Sad Reality of Today's Music. - Video Description
So many of us spend our days fighting over whether or not music is permissible or not, we engage in debates and arguments over the permissibility of instruments, singing, beatboxing etc.
The fact of the matter is, we are well beyond these debates. We have Muslims listening to the worst of music today, to the extent that if we were to remove the instruments entirely, the vocals themselves would still be well beyond sinful.
This video is not to continue the endless debate on music, but rather shed light on the shameless reality of mainstream music today and how cautious we should be to avoid granting it access to our ears.
Allah has given us the Quran, His Noble Book, which He describes as a "healing" and a source of "mercy", so why not find our solace in it instead?
May Allah protect us all.
Video Produced by @OnePath Network.
Six reasons you really should stop listening to music. | OPN
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